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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



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HEAVEN, HELL, OR 
HOBOKEN 



By 



Ray Neil Johnson 



Illustrated by 

Don Palmer 
Vic Norris 



The slogan of the A. E. F.— 

"Boys, weMl be in Heaven, Hell, or 
Hoboken by Christmas !" 

— Black Jack Pershini. 





COPYRIGHT 1919 
RAY N. JOHNSON 



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The o. s. Hubbell printing Co 
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Dedicated to Those Who Suffered Most — 
Our Mothers. " 



FOREWORD 

THIS book was originally written for members of the 
Machine Gun Company, 145th Infantry, 37th 
Division, but since it contains information of so 
much interest to the public it has been put on the 
market. 

It is a truthful account, based on actual daily records, 
of our experiences in the U. S. Army from the time of 
the induction of the National Guard into Federal 
Service, July 15th, 1917, to the date of our discharge, 
April 22nd, 1919. 

Nothing has been exaggerated, and nothing has been 
under-rated. We have dealt equally with great battles 
and small incidents of our army life; both the tragic and 
the comic, the sublime and the ridiculous have been 
described in detail. 

We firmly believe, after having scoured the magazine 
and newspaper articles as well as the books dealing with 
the experiences of men in The World War, that nowhere 
in the world has been published such an unbiased nar- 
ration of actual experience as this. 

It is far from being a literary masterpiece. Its power 
lies in the fact that it is the Truth. It is the War from 
the enlisted man's point of view. 

RAY N. JOHNSON, 

Private, U. S. Army.. 

I endorse the foregoing statement in full. 

(Signed) CHARLES L. WEDOW, 

Captain Inf., U. S. Army. 

(Signed) CHARLES C. CHAMBERS, 

Lt. Col. Inf., U. S. Army. 



CONTENTS 

Pagre 

Cleveland -----__5 

Montgomery - - - - - - 18 

France - - - - - - -42 

Goncourt ---._- 45 

Bru --.-... 52 

Alsace-Lorraine ------ 60 

Badonviller - - - - - - -63 

Clairupt - - - - - - 69 

Ker-ar-Vor - - - - - - -73 

Pexonne ------ 76 

The Argonne - - - - - - -92 

St. Mihiel - - - - - - II7 

Belgium - - , - - - - - 125 

Ypres ------ 126 

First Offensive in Flanders - - _ . _ 135 

Second Flanders Drive - - - _ . 147 

The Armistice ------ 150 

Hundelgem ------ 153 

Iseghem ------- 155 

Arneke ------ 163 

Pre-en-Pail - - - - - - - 169 

Fye ------ 172 

Brest - - - - - . - 173 

Homeward Bound - - - - - -177 

In Memorium ---___ 190 

Casualty List - - - - - - 191 

Roster - - - - - - - 193 



Official Service Record 

Machine Gun Co., I45tli U. S. Infantry. 

Baccarat Sector Aug. 4 to Sept. 16, 1918 

Avocourt Sector Sept. 21 to Sept. 25, 1918 

Pannes Sector (St. Mihiel) Oct. 7 to Oct. 16, 1918 

Meuse-Argonne Offensive Sept. 26 to Oct. 1, 1918 

Flanders Offensive, forcing crossing of Lys and Escaut Rivers 

Oct. 31 to Nov. 4, 1918 

Flanders Offensive, forcing crossing of Escaut River at Syngem 

Nov. 9 to Nov. 11, 1918 



s mmmmmmimmv9u 



On Bolivar Road, near the corner of Prospect Avenue and East 
Fourteenth Street, Cleveland, Ohio, there is a weatherbeaten brick 
building with a single stone tower at one corner ; a round tower with 
long narrow windows and medieval battlements, like the dungeon- 
keep of an ancient castle, dark and forbidding in aspect. A great 
arched entrance with broad stone steps and massive wooden doors 
opens into a small lobby or ante-room, from which entrance is gained 
to the hall with its galleries and stage, where many a famous 
orator or lecturer has addressed his audience. It is good old Grays' 
Armory, the home of the Cleveland Grays, and dear to the hearts of 
the "old men" of the Machine Gun Company because of its countless 
associations with their army life from the time they entered Uncle 
Sam's service in the summer of 1917 until they departed for training 
at Camp Sheridan in the fall of the year. It was offered to us as a 
home for the company by the Grays, and, next to our own individual 
homes, it comes first in our aflFections. It will be equally loved by 
the men who joined us at Sheridan and Lee and "Over There," if it 
is our good fortune to be quartered there again before we all are 
separated and scattered. 

There is a wide, worn flight of stairs which leads up into the 
tower and private hall. Many a man mounted them in those days 
with unwilling feet, to "go up on the carpet" before Skipper Cham- 
bers and get what was coming to him, — usually a job cleaning the 
little coop at the head of the basement stairs ! Higher in the tower 
is the "Brig," where languished that adventurous and cantankerous 
pair, Howard Frye and Ben Shiftman, who "went" to see their girls 
without Cap Chambers' permission. 

Downstairs is the main hall with its broad, smooth expanse of 
wooden floor. Along its right wall were piled hundreds of chairs for 




use during lectures and plays. At the rear end was the old col- 
lapsible stage, with wide doors on 
either side opening into the alley. 
At the opposite end were the old 
gun racks. In one corner stood a 
fine piano, an instrument which 
furnished us with plenty of music 
and amusement during idle hours. 
It was in this hall that most of our 
formations were held, and where 
we struggled through calisthenics 
and Butt's Manual whenever Lieu- 
tenant "Ted" Pierce took the no- 
tion that we needed it. Those 
were the "palmy days," when we 
considered it an outrage to be 
drilled even two or three hours ! 
We little knew what was in store 
for us. 

At the rear of the building, 
above the stage, were the little 
rooms, where slept Norman MacLean, "Stinkem" Joe Boyd, Matt 
Manning, Lewis Carey, George Tepper, Chuck Jones, Henry Welker, 
Frank Carlin, Norman Byram and Steve Byram. These fellows 
were not so fortunate as the rest of us who had homes to go to 
every night. However, ask any one of them whether or not they 
had a good time in this improvised home ! 

Beyond the little brick-paved alley behind the armory lay the 
old Erie cemetery. Have any of us forgotten the "Graveyard 
Rat?" Did you ever stand guard at the rear armory door early 
in the morning and have the "Rat" ask you for a dime for whiskey? 
Somehow, there was always something of interest going on in the 
alley. If it wasn't new rookies learning the "school of the soldier" 
under Lee Carl's tutelage, Bill Williams was exhibiting his skill as 
a crack shot with the "forty-five" or there was a crap game to 
watch. Perhaps there was some Border man "bulling" the newest 
recruit about his hair-raising experiences in Texas. Now and then 
there was a dog fight, usually between Tige and a strange dog. 
Tige was our mascot, a huge brindle-bull. 

If you weren't on extra duty or one of the usual details, you 
didn't have to show up at the armory in the morning until roll call 
at 9:00 A. M. Most of us managed so as to just make it in time 
to fall in. A few, particularly the newest recruits, would come in 
at 7 :00 or 8 :00 o'clock, but not for long, — in a few days they also 
would begin to sleep late like the rest. Usually the only fellows 
around that early were Mac, Joe Boyd, Lee Carl and his dog Tige. 



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Tige was a rough customer ; only a young dog, but heavily built, 
and armed with a set of teeth that gave a man the ''Willies" to look 
at. He had a way of curling back his lips and sticking out his pair 
of long lower tusks, when teased 
too much, that was ample warning 
to any tormentor. His mania was 
a deep hatred for cats and an in- 
satiable desire to fight strange dogs. 
After Tige came to the armory the 
cats "high-balled" for safer quar- 
ters. The only dog he ever toler- 
ated was little "Bullets," a white 
mongrel pup that followed us in 
from the streets one day as we came 
back from drill. At that, poor Bul- 
lets lived a dog's life, especially 
when Tige felt inclined to play. 

As usual, those summer morn- 
ings, a few of the early birds would 
be sitting on the front steps ; Mac, 
just out of bed and in his habitual 
comical humor ; Joe Boyd staring 

up the street with a vacant look, waiting for something to happen; 
Matt Manning picking his teeth after a breakfast at the "Y ;" a new 
man or two, (poor misguided birds!) day-dreaming of future glory, 
and wishing they could get hold of a uniform ; Lee Carl playing with 
Tige while the morning front door guard watched with amusement, 
or wondered in bad language where his "relief" was. Along about 
8:00 o'clock Lieutenant Wedow, Lieutenant Pierce or Lieutenant 
Sprague would arrive. Some one of the boys would call "attention" 
and all would rise and salute, — some assortment of salutes in those 
days ! It was a common occurrence for a rookie, taken by surprise, 
to raise his hand too late, and then, with a foolish expression on his 
face, try to "cover up" by scratching his nose. 

From that time on there would be more doing. Some bird 
would come in with a story of his adventures of the night before, — 
they were all devils with the women, to hear them talk ! A few 
others would show up looking "wally-eyed" and in need of sleep. 
The phone would ring; a call from some fond relative asking the 
top sergeant if "Jack had stayed there last night — he hadn't been 
home." Wallie's answer usually was, "No, he wasn't — er, just a 
minute. Oh, yes, he was on guard !" Wallie always was a good 
scout. 

At nine o'clock came the roll-call formation, held either inside 
the armory or on the wide sidewalk out in front. Captain Chambers 




would come down from his office in the tower, take the report from 

the first sergeant and cast his eye up 
and down the company. Each man 
hoped that look wouldn't stop at him 
and breathed a subdued sigh of relief 
when it had passed. If a hat was 
cocked at an angle or a pocket un- 
buttoned the unlucky bird sure heard 
about it ! You couldn't feel safe even 
in the rear rank when the Skipper 
was out in front. He would give a 
few orders to be carried out during 
the day, and then in charge of Lieu- 
tenant Pierce or Lieutenant Sprague 
we would be marched to Payne's 
Pasture for our two hours of drill. 
Drill ! We were allowed to fall out 
to rest and smoke about every ten 
minutes ! When the allotted time 
was up we would march back up 
Euclid Avenue and East Fourteenth 
Street to the Armory, singing *'The 

Machine Gun Men," "America, Here's My Boy" or "The Jackass 

Battery." 

W^e messed in those days at the Central Y. M. C. A. dining room 
at 22nd and Prospect Avenue. Each man was allowed seventy-five 
cents a day for meals and had a mess number which he mentioned 
to the cashier. His bill was marked up against his number on their 
records and turned in to Mess Sergeant Byram. li he overran the 
seventy-five cent limit it was merely charged to him on the pay-roll. 
Sad to say, a few unwise ones failed to keep their numbers secret. 
It was easy for another bird to bring a "skirt" to lunch with him at 
their expense ! 

As we almost invariably had the afternoon to ourselves, and 
there were a thousand and one places of amusement nearby, the long 
lazy summer passed quickly. A man in uniform was welcomed and 
admitted without charge to any of the movies. Our favorite was 
the Stillman. If so inclined we could find a couple of burlesque 
shows within five minutes walk. A favorite game was a walk down 
Ninth to Euclid and thence to the square — girls adore khaki ! In 
the evenings we could go on an expedition to "The Beach," that 
popular summer resort on the lake, or take a longer trip to Willough 
Beach and enjoy an evening of dancing. Then there was Luna 
Park, or Edgewater, or Gordon ; and never was there any lack of 
girls ! Yes, the summer passed altogether too quickly. 

At last we received our orders to proceed to Camp Sheridan. 




Our scanty equipment was taken to the railroad yards and loaded 
in box-cars. On the afternoon of September 25th, 1917, with the 
eyes of our mothers, fathers, sis- 
ters and sweethearts upon us, we 
formed in company front on the 
sidewalk before the armory door. 
The roll was taken and the report, 
**Sir, all are present or accounted 
for," given to Lieutenant Wedow. 
There were a scant few moments 
at "rest" and then, "Company — 
Ten-shun!" (Disturbing lumps 
rose in our throats.) "Squads 
right — Column right — March !" 
and we were off to the old Water 
street station. 

The streets were decorated 
with bunting and flags and crowd- 
ed with people. As we rounded 
the corner of Lakeside Avenue 
and East Sixth and swung into 
line behind the regiment, the Ma- 
chine Gunners, Cleveland's singing 
company, broke into song with 

"America, Here's My Boy." We sang those old songs as we had 
never sung them before — our hearts were in our voices. As we 
neared the station the mass of people surged around us until w^e 
could scarcely get through. Some even broke into the ranks, think- 
ing as the column entered the depot gates it was their last chance to 
bid their boys farewell. 

However, it proved a long and wearisome wait before we en- 
trained. We fell out at the depot and gathered with our loved ones 
in small groups. Most of us were cheerful and happy, and so were 
the mothers, fathers, sisters and sweethearts, although their's was 
the hardest part. We soldiers, all young and confident, were im- 
patient to be off, though fully aware that it might be months or even 
years before we could return. Not that we were insensible to the 
sadness of leave-taking, but that we had even in our few months of 
army life schooled ourselves to be cheerful in the face of any hard- 
ship. 

At last all was ready and we were marched to the cars. There 
were a few moments of suspense and tearful farewells from the car 
windows and then, amid a surging mass of upturned faces, fluttering 
hands and handkerchiefs, and a babel of voices and cheers, we 
slowly moved out of the depot and, rounding the curve, disappeared 
from view. 



How you worried for fear of being rejected when you went 
down to enlist, — and drank water or choked down a big meal, — or 
learned the eyesight chart until you could have read it standing on 
your head? 



That "different" feeling 
once you were irrevocably in 
their clutches? 



The first time Cap Cham- 
bers had you on the carpet and 
you came down looking the 
worse for wear? 



(And, as a consequence) 
The first time you policed 
the little room just at the head 
of the basement stairs? 



DR»NH»NG- 

M«K€: TH£ 

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What a drag with the 
women that uniform gave you, 
and how you felt like an honest 
to gosh hero? (In spite of the 

fact that those army shoes 

looked like canal boats, and 

there was room enough to pour 

water in the tops of your canvas leggings, and you needed suspenders 

to keep your misfit breeches from falling to half-mast.) 



How your best girl worshiped you, and your mother wept a 
few tears, but was so proud of you; and your father strutted and 
told everyone that his son had enlisted, — and your new comrades 
said, *'Gosh, look at the ears on him!" 



How difficult it was to keep track of all your buttons and keep 
them buttoned? 

How important you felt the first time you were on guard with 
the company forty-five on your hip ? 



That the first time you were on guard you kept ''always on 
the alert," and walked your post "in a military manner"? 



10 



That the next time, you sat down and read a newspaper? 



That the first time you saw Grover Schaible you thought he 
must be an officer, and how you felt when, after meekly taking a 
bawling out from him, you discov- 
ered he was a private? 



What a hard guy and "lady- 
killer" Bill Williams was? What 
a nut ''Tommie" Thomas was? 
And what a tough customer Joe 
Boyd appeared to be ? 



How "big" Captain Cham- 
bers, Lieutenant Wedow, and 
Lieutenant Pierce looked to you, 
and how "small" you felt in com- 
parison ? 



The back alley the night of 
the Colored Elks' Convention ? 




Those "long" hikes out to 
55th street? 



How you dolled up and tried to "get orderly" on Saturday night 
— and didn't? 



Who usually got it 



How sore you were when you found out that some other bird 
was eating on your number at the "Y," and that all the sympathy 
you got when you reported it to Sergeant Byram was the informa- 
tion that you were a darn fool to let anyone get your number? 



How you felt during the last formation in front of the armory 
just before we marched to the depot? 



Captain Chambers' Departure 

On or about September 1st, Captain Chambers left for Fort 
Sill, Oklahoma, to attend Machine Gun School. He called the com- 
pany together in the private hall of the armory and bade us farewell, 
asking that we be as loyal to Lieutenant Wedow as we had been to 



11 



him. We gave him three rousing cheers and wished him the best 
of luck. 

The Skipper was a man of iron discipline, but the friend of 
every man in the company, and although we were glad to see L.ieu- 
tenant Wedow take the helm, we were unfeignedly sorry to see 
Captain Chambers go, even though we knew he would come back 
some day in the future. 




STr7/vO RT 
V£P? Tff/K^^" To 

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Small Shot 

We hope that the Colored Elks hold another convention when 
we get back. 



The cats came fiddling out of a barn 

With a brother tom-cat under their arms. 

All they could sing was '*fiddle-come-fee," 

'* 'Twas that onery dog Tige, Tom, that finished thee." 

Has anyone forgotten the day when we went down to Central 
Armory to get our first shot in the arm? We refrain from giving 
embarrassing details. 



Et Cetera 



Karasek answered the phone one day and a sweet voice purred : 
*Ts Lieutenant Donaldson there?" 

Oh, Earl ! We're afraid you've been spoofing them ! 



12 



Tommy — "How tall are you, Scotty?" 

Gloyd B— "Six-feet-four inches. Why?" 

Tommy — "Gee! I didn't know they piled it that high." 



If you want to worry the matron of the Y. M. C. A. just call 
her up and tell her that Sergeant Williams, our up-to-date Solomon, 
is back. 



Slatinsky (to sympathetic Hstener) — "I tink I was quit dis army 
job and go to work by a factory for two dollar-half a day!" 

One fine summer evening Jack Stimmel borrowed Steve Byram's 
Saxon runabout, and told him he'd be back in an hour. He left 
Steve sitting on the rear steps of the Armory entertaining "Little 
Mary." 

The front door guard says 
Steve had to take Mary home in a 
Stanley bus. 



The rear* door guard says 
Stimmel got in about 2:00 A. M. 



Waldo had previous training. 
He used to beat the drum in the 
Salvation Army. 




Privates C o r 1 e 1 1 , Herig, 
Kope, Stimmel and Harry Cater 
used to shine their shoes by the 
hour to get "Orderly." Even 
Bender and Stanbury had no 
chance against Corlett, but one 
night he failed. The other four 
privates saw an opportunity for 
some fun; so about 11:00 P. M., 
when Corlett was doing his bit at 
the back door, they sneaked into 

the graveyard. Corlett had been unable to procure ammunition for 
the forty-five and, it being a lonesome spot and his first time on 
guard, he was considerably fussed up. 

The four privates proceeded to the scene of the tragedy with 
a "thirty-two" in Stimmel's possession. Everything was pre- 
arranged. They all knew their roles. 

Herig and Kope had the argument. 

Stimmel fired the shot. 

Cater did the groaning. 

Corlett threw a fit and beat it back through the armory to the 

13 



corporal of the guard, who was asleep. The corporal got sore and 
said "damn," and other things. He refused to give him ammunition 
and made him go back to his post. 

The four privates laughed. 

Next day the company laughed. 

But Corlett never "got wise," and won't until he reads this. 



Z^. ' y 




wmimr^''^0 



Darkness had already enshrouded the city when we started on 
our journey to the South, and our last impression of the good old 
town was a mixture of glaring arc lamps, illuminated feigns, red and 
green rail-lights, the dusky shapes of box-cars on sidings and the 
dark hulks of factories, elevators and huge oil-tanks along the 
tracks. With gathering speed we switched onto the main road and 
passed a cheering mob at the Newburgh station. Then the buildings 
and homes became fewer in number, we wdiizzed by a few freight 
trains on sidings, and were in the open country. 

We soon tired of gazing out of the windows, and as the lights 
in the car came on, card games began, books and magazines were 
produced, mandolins and "ukes" brought forth, and conversation 
concerning past, present and future started ; the whole producing a 
babel indescribable, which was augmented when a hot crap game 
in the smoker of our Pullman began to get hotter. 

Along about 4:00 A. M. the porter came through and made up 
the berths. Weary with the strain of maintaining cheerful counte- 
nances during the parting from home and loved ones, our heads 
whirling with thoughts of them and perhaps a few vain regrets and 
conjectures on the future, we one by one fell asleep. 

We had thought morning would find us well into Kentucky, 
but troop-trains are slow, as we soon found out, for it was just 
dawn when we pulled into the Union station at Columbus, Ohio. 
The train stopped there long enough for many of us to run up the 
stairs to the station and buy a few post-cards, magazines and candy. 
There were a few moments of conversation with waiting travelers 
who clustered at the car windows to wish us luck and a pleasant 
journey, and we were off. 

Before nightfall we had wormed our way through the Cincin- 
nati yards and crossed the Ohio river. The train halted on a siding 



14 



for some time on the Kentucky side, so we had plenty of time to bid 
our home state silent farewell, and put our last "eyeful" of her in 
our little store of memories. When at last the wild Kentucky hills 
shut off our view as we moved slowly south out of Covington, we 
resolutely turned from thoughts of home to enjoy the ever-changing 
view of the new country. 

From then on our journey was crowded with interesting scenery 
and at every station and town the troop train resembled a *'mad- 
house." From every window hung three or four men, shouting or 
singing, or emitting shrill whistles and ''cat-calls" to the vast enter- 
tainment of the civilians, who gave us a hearty welcome every- 
where. It would be futile to attempt to record the mass of interest- 
ing occurrences in detail. Each man will have no difficulty in 
remembering his own share. 

At last, on the morning of the twenty-ninth, the fourth day, 
we reached Montgomery, Alabama, and, a few miles further on the 
train stopped in the open country. We gazed eagerly out of the 
windows, but no very pleasant prospect greeted us. It was raining 
steadily and the air was chilly, — nothing could be seen but a vast 
expanse of brown, grassy pasture land, fields of dead cotton plants, 
and a reddish-yellow, muddy road that disappeared over a nearby 
crest. 

We detrained in the driving rain, many of us without even a 
poncho to keep us dry. There seemed to be more than the usual 
delay in forming up, and of course we were at the tail of the column ! 
Meanwhile we huddled in shivering, dispirited little groups, being 
ordered to fall out and rest until the regiment passed. Was this 
the South ? If so, where was that perpetual sunshine ? 

Falling in behind the regiment we started up the muddy road. 
For a long time no one spoke a word. We were thoroughly dis- 
gusted. Suddenly, as we were passing General Zimerman's head- 
quarters, the quartet began to sing "Ohio," At first there was little 
support, but gradually the refrain took hold and increased in volume 
until every man was singing at the top of his voice. We kept it up 
with other songs and entered Camp Sheridan singing. Those of the 
"old bunch" who are still with us know that we left it singing. 

Finally we came to our portion of the camp and one by one 
the companies entered their respective streets. As we turned in at 

15 



the new mess hall marked *'M. G." we gave a rousing cheer. We 
were assigned to tents and or- 
dered to get busy at once and 
prepare for the night. 

The tents had been put up 
hastily by "C" company, which 
had come down a month ahead 
of the regiment to prepare the 
camp. Our streets, like all the 
others, was a slough of mud and 
little pools of water, there being 
no drainage whatsoever. 

We dug temporary ditches, 
reinforced the pegs of our tents, 
drained the interiors as well as 
possible, and laid a few boards 

over the mud to provide bridges to our cots. That night, tired be- 
yond description, we went to bed early after eating a cold supper. 
The wind rose steadily, and by midnight a seventy-two mile an hour 
gale from the gulf was hitting us with full force. Tents all over the 
camp were blown down by the dozen, and their occupants forced to 
take shelter in the mess-halls. 

It rained without ceasing for three days, and we were unspeak- 
ably miserable, but finally at about noon Sunday the skies cleared 
and the sun shone with intense heat. Under the influence of its rays 
our spirits rose and we set about the business of making a good 
camp of the one-time cotton field. 





CVMHIKCS - ST(J/y5Bef?y-ft)NfllLD50(V-CHf!PMflW 
-TM FIT FHMC^US 

HnCHlN6 GUIV FOUR 



16 



Troop Train Trimmings 

Does the girl who got your address from the paper plate you 
threw out of the train window still write to you, or did she quit when 
you sent your picture? 



Remember the first time we were gassed? Why didn't some- 
body tell us we were coming to a tunnel ? 

Did you look out at Lookout Mountain? If you didn't, that's 
your lookout ; but we'll bet there were darned few dames you didn't 
look out at. 



Harry Seaman entertained the ofiicers with a dance of the seven 
veils — only he had to use a towel. Wonder if 'twas a barber towel? 
No : it must have been a Turkish towel ! ! 



Old Sarge Byram was a merry old soul on the trip to Sheridan. 
So were the cooks and K. P.'s. The dill-pickles weren't the only 
pickles in the kitchen car. 

Show us the man ''with soul so dead" who didn't try to play 
Prince Charming with some skirt at some little wayside station ! 

What became of all the Three Star Hennessy? 
Ask Dad, — He knows ! 

Or Ben, — or Stinkem, — or Denny, — or Brute, — or, well, to tell 
the truth, Dad isn't the only one who knows — not by a long shot ! 



Camp Sheridan 

The first two weeks at Camp Sheridan were a nightmare of 
work. We began on the tents, making level floors of packed dirt, 
deep drainage ditches, and replacing the inadequate pegging with 
stouter pegs and ropes. Then came the street. Under the direction 
of Sergeant Warren Smith we labored for a week ; tearing out by 
root the weeds and cotton plants, turning under the rank growth of 
long grass, crowning the center, raking and grading the sides, cut- 
ting curbs and gutters, and bridging the big regimental drainage 
ditch with heavy planks. Before we were through we swore we w^ere 
destined to be day laborers for Uncle Sam, not soldiers. We learned 
afterward that a soldier must be jack-of -all-trades, as well as a fight- 
ing man. 

Following this first fortnight of unceasing labor came the first 
week of our training schedule, which was to be of sixteen weeks 

17 



duration. Still aching from the back-breaking work we were put to 
the "school of the soldier," "school of the squad," signaling with 
flags, practice in carrying verbal messages, and squads "east and 
west." The weeks went by slowly and our training was plentifully 
interspersed with such odd jobs as spreading gravel on the street, 
kitchen and mess-hall, building up the tents with wooden side-walls 
and frames, and special "details" to the supply company for clothing 
or rations. The drill-fields had to be weeded and leveled, ditches 
and trenches dug and filled up again for no apparent reason, and 
the regular routine of duties performed. But it is not the purpose of 
this narrative to dwell upon such matters as these. We remember 
them all too clearly! Suffice to say that before Thanksgiving Day 
had passed we had become used to drilling day in and day out and 
had adapted ourselves physically and mentally to the business of 
soldiering. 




Distance lends enchantment, and regretfully we admit that we 
did not fully appreciate this good old Southern city until after we 
had left it. During the nine months we were at Camp Sheridan, 
Montgomery, four miles away, was naturally the Mecca to which 
all of us flocked for pastime and amusement. Indeed, we went there 
in such numbers that on Saturdays and Sundays the place looked 
more like a soldier city than the capital of a state. 

It is principally a city of homes, but has also a flourishing busi- 
ness district and a large cotton and fruit market. The large shops, 
theaters and hotels are conveniently and centrally located, and there 

are ice cream parlors, billiard par- 
lors, barber shops and stationery 
stores in plenty. One could find 
almost anything he desired to buy 
at some store within five minutes 
walk of the square. The two best 
hotels, the Gay-Teague and Ex- 
change, are particularly dear to 
our memories, for they were as 
the hub of a wheel, — our congre- 
gating and meeting places. We 
also remember with interest the Capitol and its old relics of the Civil 
war, the old soldiers in charge, the brass plate set in the stone step 




18 



on the spot where Jefferson Davis was inaugurated, and the beautiful 
well-kept grounds surrounding the building. 

To the people of Montgomery, who welcomed us to their homes 
and introduced us to their social life, thus making our monotonous 
training period immeasurably more pleasant, we wish to express our 



heartfelt gratitude and affection. 



Remember the taxi drivers' siren cry? "Going to town!" And 
if you fell for it and went, what a helluva time you usually had get- 
ting another to bring you back? 



No wonder we developed into such ferocious soldiers ! It riles 
a man's disposition to pay two-bits to get to town and then either 
pay four-bits or walk back ! 



There ought to be a special place in Hell for the Kaiser, the 
Clown Prince, — and those taxi drivers ! 



Jack Stirm had the rookies in his tent thinking they were in the 
clutches of a fresh air fiend. The nights at Sheridan were invariably 
cold and heavy with dew, but Jack insisted upon rolling up his corner 
of the tent, and he being the cor- 
poral, we could only protest vain- 
ly and shiver. Later, we learned 
that Jack was right. He learned 
his lesson on the Mexican border. 
When the "fresh-air orders" of 
the division came out, old Squad 
Two was untroubled. Wt were 
already veteran "fiends." 




Gosh ! How we used to cuss 
the tonsorial artists back of the 
canteen, — and now we have 
Greenleaf ! 



W/JIk \ 



We have never yet found 
out who got "the gravy" from 
the regimental canteen. 




PflJOMRS 



Nor why it was that when we answered sick call with a sore 
ankle they invariably gave us C. C.'s. 



If the Kaiser had ever stood Reveille every morning for even 
a month there'd have been no war. 



19 



By the way, did you ever stand Reveille early on those dark 
mornings with only your nightie on underneath your overcoat? 

Which reminds us that many a night we went to bed in heavy 
marching order and put on our pajamas for camouflage. 

Saturday afternoon, hot and stufify within, but heaven compared 
with the heat of the sun outside the tent. Brute Zellner dolling up 
to go to town, — familiar footstep. Rear elevation of Brute, hat 

and necktie in hand, scrambling over the 

flW ! 5>0Me) ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^"^^ ''-^" Company 

^OLD^tR I street. One second later, — Sergeant 

Chapman sticks his head in at the door. 
''Two men for gravel detail !" 
Moral : — Live and learn. 




Remember that the first men to get 
furloughs were Tepper and Rufif, and 
how that started us thinking? Shame on 
you, boys, for disturbing the peace. 
Even the officers got the bug. 



One painful memory is that of the 
band, practicing in skirmish line in Head- 
quarters tents. Here a boom, — there a 
squeak, — here and there a squawk! 
squawk ! 

Just when we wanted to write a nice 
letter to our girl, too. 







20 



Things We Hated 

The band. 

Reveille. 

Policing the street. 

Kitchen police. 

Latrine police. 

''Gimme a cigarette" (twenty times a day from the same dude), 

Compulsory formations for church on Sunday. 

Squads right and left. 

Gas mask drill. 

Wood detail. 

Delinquency sheets. 

Washing clothes. 

**No mail for you." 

Saturday inspections. 

One gallon of dish-water for 140 men. 

School in the mess-hall every night. 

W-O-R-K- ! 



Things We Liked 

Letters from home. 

Retreat without a parade. 

Pay day. 

Mess — sometimes. 

A box of cookies, cake or fudge from our girl. 

To get out of a detail by hook or crook — preferably by crook. 

Furloughs. 

Baths — most of us. 

Montgomery girls — (not the dark kind). 

Candy ! 



Division Review 

December 24th, 1917 

At this, our first important review, Governor Cox of Ohio was 
the guest of honor. After the collapse of the Christmas furlough 
plan, which caused such great disappointment both at home and 
among the soldiers, he had declared his intention of visiting Ohio's 
volunteers in person, and proposed the famous "Christmas Special" 
scheme to the people of Ohio. They responded enthusiastically as 
we well know, and he came to us with a special trainload of Christ- 
mas packages. 

We marched from our camp by way of the old race-track road 
to the site of the camp of the Military Police, where we halted until 

21 



we could enter our position in the parade. Then, led by the band, 
we turned in at the division parade ground and the regiment passed 
the reviewing stand by companies in company front. It was a bright 
sunny day, and the people had turned out in large numbers to see 
us; most of them from Montgomery, but also a great many Ohioans, 
— relatives, friends and sweethearts. They were not only over- 
flowing onto the parade ground, but were massed all along the line 
of march, which led through the artillery camp and back up the 
main road along the new street car line. 

At the entrance to our camp Colonel Stanbury reviewed the 
regiment as we passed in column of squads. Then, to our great 
relief, we reached our company street and were dismissed for the 
afternoon. 



Christmas Eve 

To celebrate this great occasion in the best possible manner, 
most of us went to town. Montgomery, slow and sedate though it 
seemed to us then, was crowedd with soldiers and their relatives 
and an unusual number of citizens of the town itself (both black 
and white). The city was ablaze with lights, hotels and shops were 
overflowing, ice cream parlors swamped with business, and the 
movies turning away more people than were already inside. Taxi 
after taxi and car after car unloaded scores of soldiers in the square 
and hundreds more streamed in on foot, compelled to walk for lack 
of transportation. It was a gay night. 

A few remained at camp, preferring to spend the evening 
quietly in the tents or at the various Y. M. C. A. huts, where enter- 
tainment of all sorts was provided. The camp theater drew more 
than even its usual great crowd. No matter wliere we went we all 
had our full share of Christmas cheer. But need it be said that in 
the hearts of most of us, when we crawled into our bunks. that night 
was a vague longing and a dull ache, — an uncomfortable homesick- 
ness? 



Christmas Day 

With its usual perversity the weather changed over night, and 
we awoke Christmas morning to the dismal prospect of a rainy, 
chilly day; nor did it change to the better for a single moment, — 
nothing but leaden sky, drizzling rain, dripping tents and muddy 
streets were our portion. But even though the weather went back 
on us, we enjoyed ourselves. The boxes from home that came on 
Governor Cox's train were delivered in the morning, and the Red 
Cross also played Santa Clans with a bursting package for each man. 

Most of us had letters in large numbers from home and friends, 

22 



and for days afterward letters and delayed packages kept streaming 
in. There were special entertainments at the ''Y" huts and theater. 
Sergeant Byram and the cooks came across with a big feed. As for 
candy, — we were overloaded with it, and having eaten until we were 
deliciously stuffed and on the verge of illness, we still had sufficient 
to last us a week. 

With our new philosophy of **pack all your troubles in your old 
kit bag and smile," that our short experience as soldiers had incul- 
cated in us, we speedily forgot our little touch of "blues," caused 
by the disappointment of the Christmas furlough fiasco, and retired 
at *'taps," with our stomachs and hearts content and overflowing 
with Christmas cheer. 



New Year's Day— 1918 

While not such an occasion for merry-making as Christmas, 
the New Year was ushered in with unusual noise and commotion. 
Not a few taxis left camp with a string of cans rattling behind. 
Most everyone who had been to town came back loaded with fire- 
crackers and torpedoes, creating continuous pandemonium until 
after midnight, regardless of consequences, and caring not a whit 
for the "cussings" they received from the peaceful ones who were 
in their bunks. 

Of course, there were the usual good resolutions, quickly made 
and soon forgotten, and a good deal of half-serious conjecturing as 
to the future. What a light-hearted beginning it was for a year 
that proved so heavily laden with events that shook the very founda- 
tions of the world and moulded our own lives anew ! 



Christmas Cracks 

What happened to the furlough money we begged from home 
after the Christmas furlough deal? 



Governor Cox was a regular Santa. He didn't have whiskers, 
or a red nose, or a red coat with white fur trimmings, or reindeers 
and a sleigh, but he had a trainload of gifts and a message of good 
cheer ; yes, — and the proverbial Santa Claus ''bay window," too ! 



No wonder we need chaplains in the army. 

Who could act like a Christian on Christmas Eve when he had 
to walk half-way to town to get a taxi, or take the other alternative 
of hanging on to a street car by some comrade's coat tails, — and 
then pay fifty cents to some highway rol)bcr to bring him back to 



camp ? 



23 



Say, Humpy Turner, — remember when somebody threw a fire- 
cracker into the tent New Year's Eve, and it Ht so close to the nether 
portions of Tige that he thought it was a rearguard attack meant 
for him, and nearly tore Scott's bunk to pieces? Also that you 
threw a shoe at him and broke our only electric light bulb? 



Wonder why the boys' mothers all got sick just before Christ- 
mas ? 



Did you keep on praying for 'The Army and Navy Forever" 
when they told you there would be no Christmas furloughs? 



It seems as though Old Jupe Pluvius has always had it in for 
us. Durned if we ever knew it to fail to rain on a holiday ! 



A good many dudes resolved to get married pretty sudden 
around Christmas and New Year's. 

Guess the sick-mother gag was overworked! 



The Hike to the Artillery Range 

March ISth, 1918. 

Everyone of us has his own pet recollections of that first trip 
to the trenches at the artillery range. The regiment left camp early 
in the afternoon and, after a hike of an hour and a half, arrived at 
the "positions." All except the first relief pitched pup tents in the 
''back area." It had rained hard, and the trench system was one 
mass of mud. 

In order to simulate actual conditions we did not occupy the 
positions until after nightfall. All of us wore gas masks and helmets. 
We waded and slipped and struggled up trenches in mud that was 
two and a half feet deep in many places. Conditions were worse 
than we ever experienced before or after ; even in France. 

Each relief remained in the trenches four hours, and not being 
inured to the wet mud and penetrating cold night air, we were half- 
froze and unutterably wretched before the 146th Infantry arrived, 
two hours late. Then, when we prepared to evacuate the area and 
begin the march back to camp, there resulted endless confusion of 
men, wagons, mules, machine-gun carts and scattered equipment. 
In our company the shelter-halfs and campaign hats, which we had 
left behind at the entry to the positions, were hopelessly mixed and 
we had to snatch them up indiscriminately. 

It was four o'clock in the morning when we arrived, cold, dirty 
and hungry. After the mules and carts had been put away we were 

24 



given a fine breakfast of bread and jam, coffee and slum, and then 
excused until noon. 



Jimmy Wilson and Jack Stirm were wiser than the rest. No 
premature trench life for them ; they concluded to postpone it until 
they reached France, and camouflaged themselves in a dark pup- 
tent and snoozed until we returned. 



It was not for lack of government mules that many a man 
pulled a cart that night ! It was for lack of government harness ! 

All the nice new hats and shelter-halfs changed hands in the 
mixup of equipment. Talk about cattle-rustlers and changing 
brands! It would have taken a cattle-country sheriff and posse to 
round up and identify those hats and shelter-halfs. 



No one got extra duty for snoozing in school that afternoon. 
That's about the only time we enjoyed school in the mess-hall. 



First Trip to the Machine Gun Range 

March 20th, 1918 

We left camp at 7 :30 A. M. and hiked out the road over Peanut 
Hill, across old cotton fields and winding lanes, to a deep cut or 
gulch on the street car line. Here was located the old Alabama Rifle 
Range, which had been hurriedly adapted for use as a machine gun 
range. The targets were set at the base of a steep, bare hillside 
about fifty feet in height. Extending from the butts for oyer a 
thousand yards was a long, green vista of cleared land ; a uniform 
strip bordered by the tall pine forest on either side. The range had 
been used in the days gone by for lang-range rifle practice. We 
did our firing, however, at close range (1000 inches), and on special 
targets ; the main object being to teach us control of the gun in trav- 
ersing and searching fire. We all enjoyed the novelty of our first 
experience with the guns and considered it a very interesting day; 
doubly so because we had the opportunity of observing a test of 
the new Browning automatic rifle by a group of Ordnance Depart- 
ment officers. 



O. D. Larky was afraid of the gun and didn't want to fire it. 

"Nope! Nope! I alius wuz leery of guns. Never had one in 
my life." 

"Come on. Larky," coaxed D. P., smiling. 

"Uh-uh!" demurred Larky. "I couldn't stand it. Lieutenant. 
I'm too nervous. Couldn't you lemme lead a mule or sumpin'?" 

25 



''Mules are more dangerous than that gun, Larky. Get up there 
and be quick about it!" 

Very gingerly O. D. sat down to the gun, hesitated a moment, 
and then, closing his eyes, blazed away, apparently about to collapse 
from fright. Later one of the sergeants asked him how he liked 
it. Larky scratched his head, — 

"Well, I guess Lm a bigger dam fool than Steve M'Glone! He 
was just a dam fool enough to get out of the army, but I laid it on so 
thick that D. P. got wise to me !" 



Remember how good that lemonade and the jelly sandwiches 
tasted? 



Hike to the Montgomery Hunt Club 

April 3rd, 1918 

This hike was our first gruelling experience at cross-country 
marching. While it is very true that we were in no danger, that does 
not alter the fact that it required as much ''guts" to stick it out on 
that hike as we ever had to have to face an artillery barrage. The 
brand of "guts" was different, perhaps, but the will to hang on 
against all odds, to "stick in spite of Hell," is the foundation of 
courage, and the wells of our courage w^ere sorely tried that day. 

It was intensely hot and the- roads were deep with powdery 
dust. Leaving camp at 7:00 A. M., we hiked steadily until 11:00 
o'clock, marching fifty minutes and resting ten minutes of each 
hour. Our route was circuitous, leading up over Peanut Hill and 
through divers lanes and by-roads to the outskirts of Montgomery, 
there doubling back past the Remount Station and the Base Hos- 
pital and on out the Upper Wetumpka Road. Then we began to 
feel the first signs of fatigue. No smoking was permitted even at 
the halts, so most of us had to forego that solace. We were for- 
bidden to drink from our canteens, as only one canteen of water 
was to be consumed during the day, and the parching dust lodged 
in our nostrils and throats, producing an almost unbearable irrita- 
tion. Our shoulders, unused to the new packs, began to ache, more 
from the cramped position than the weight. Our feet began to 
blister under the unaccustomed strain. We were unfeignedly glad 
w^hen at 1 1 :00 o'clock we debouched into a ploughed field for mess 
and a couple of hours of rest. 

After some minutes of standing around we were permitted to 
fall out, and unslinging the stalling packs, we sought resting places 
in the dry, hard furrows. Perniission was given to eat and drink 
and we fell to with a will. 

In a sort of blind stagger we mechanically dragged through 
the hour of meaningless "maneuvers" on the nearby hunt-club 

26 



grounds. We had no interest in battles with imaginary enemies 
that day. At about 2 :30 P. M. we slung our packs and formed up 
for the weary march back to camp, already exhausted by the efforts 
of the morning and doubting our ability to continue for long. 

It was a heart-breaking job. The rays of the descending sun, 
seeming doubly hot and scorching, were directly in our eyes or 
reflected by the white road. A slight breeze stirring merely blew 
the dust up into our faces ; the air we inhaled was laden with it, and 
there was no relief, for most of us had unwisely drunk all our water 
at noon. Perhaps it was only *'play" in a camp far from the battle 
fronts, but nevertheless our sufferings were real and well nigh 
unbearable. Men from the line companies fell out along the road- 
side like flies, their number increasing with each mile. Our mules 
were exhausted and their leaders virtually had to drag them by 
main force. 

Only one man fell out of ranks in the Machine Gun Company, 
thus marring an otherwise perfect record. He fell out only two 
hundred yards from the company street to get a drink of water. 
Small things are great indicators. We refrain from mentioning his 
name, but are satisfied that he is no longer a member of the com- 
pany. Aside from that, we demonstrated conclusively that we were 
a company with ''guts." 

Were you one of the wise ones who refrained from drinking 
all their water, and were pestered by the thirsty, but improvident, 
all the way back to camp ? 



Remember the grand rush for the hydrants at the bath-house 
when we were dismissed? The word ''water" had a new meaning 
to us. 



Lt. Tilden — "Now, we are in a precarious position. The enemy 
is on our front and flanks and is preparing to counter-attack. It is 
up to us to protect the flanks and it will be very difficult, as they are 
massing in great numbers. We must hold them at all costs !" 

Mac (grumbling) — "Costs be damned! Charge 'em on the pay- 
roll like they do everything else. I'm goin' to sleep." 



Third Liberty Loan Parade 

April 6th, 1918 

On the sixth of April we ushered in the Third Liberty Loan, 
and celebrated the anniversary of the entrance of America into the 
war with a Divisional Parade in Montgomery. It was an auspicious 
day for parading, from the standpoint of the spectators, who massed 

27 



to view us all along our route through town. The southern sun 
shone from a clear blue sky and a very slight breeze was blowing, — 
enough to cool those watching from the automobiles and windows 
and balconies of office buildings and hotels, and even the compact 
crowds on the sidewalks and street corners, but affording no relief 
to the khaki-clad stream that flowed steadily over the hot cobble- 
stones. 

Montgomery was swathed in loan-posters, flags and bunting. 
In the reviewing stand were Major General Treat, the Governor of 
Alabama, a number of French officers, and many other noted men. 
Even under the stress of the heat and the fatigue of our long hike 
into town, which had been augmented by frequent double timing to 
keep closed up, we passed the stand in good order and at good 
''attention." 

Following the parade there was a flag-raising at the State Cap- 
itol, accompanied by music from a special military band. It was 
made the occasion for several Liberty Loan speeches. In this, how- 
ever, we did not take part, but thankfully trudged back to camp, 
content to call it ''a dav." 



'Tarades was made for generals and such guys," says O. D. 
Larky. ''They want to show their wives that they kin boss some- 
body around, too." 



Yes, we suppose it really was an inspiring sight to see rank 
after rank of riflemen in platoon front mounting Dexter avenue hill 
toward the Capitol. The dark mass of the crowds along the side- 
walks under the blossoming trees, and the serried, broad ribbon of 
olive-drab undoubtedly must have made a pretty contrast. But, — 
it's far from inspiring to be in those ranks, marching at attention ! 



One of the boys heard a sweet young thing (we suppose she 
was) remark as our company passed the reviewing stand: "I won- 
der why they keep looking at the men in front of them ?" 

Now ain't that just like a woman? We would have liked to 
look at her, but Cap Chambers was looking at us ! 



Which reminds us that one bird did look around. (We don't 
blame him, for he said she had on a "Hi-lo" gown and black silk 
openwork stockings) — and next morning he carried the G. I. cans. 

Larky had a day of unusual surprises one Saturday in Febru- 
ary. He got up late for reveille and wasn't bawled out or given 
extra duty! Nobody "picked on him" while he was eating break- 
fast. He discovered he was on stable detail and didn't have to drill ; 

28 



went to work willingly, got too near Number 18 mule, — and "came 
to" in the infirmary ! 



Rumor, February 20th — "C" Company is under orders to be 
ready to move within three weeks. (Note. — Must have come from 
the thirteenth hole.) 



Rumor, February 21st — According to an ''orderly in the 8th' 
we move within a month. 



One night the quartet sang "The Sailor's Life is the Life for 
Me" so realistically that the top-kick got sea-sick. And the next 
day Morrie Cummings had the hard luck to sing through the kitchen 
screen door and strain his voice ! 

(Aw, give us a new one !) 



We now realize that army life in Cleveland was the juice of 
the orange and camp life the rind. 



Skippers apparently like truthful men, but they make non- 
coms of the cheerful liars. 



Fowler was having a horrible dream. He turned on hi? cot — 
the night was real hot. In his dream on a saw-log he floated down- 
stream. He strove to roll off the drifting beam, for it floated head 
on for a rasping big saw. The noise in his ears agonized him with 
fears, and he breathed a farewell to his Maw and his Paw. As the 
buzzing thing reached him he woke in great fright. (Now, friend 
Murrel Fowler is quite a loud howler). But the buzzing ran on 
through the soft, stilly night. And he saw it came forth from the 
nose of C. White ! —VAN. 



Does anyone remember what happened to Seaman when he 
was suddenly taken with Kidney Trouble ? The guards had to work 
overtime, but he was cured within a week. 



Clank Williams, our company lady-killer, admits having lost 
out with one skirt. "Then when she had me all ribbed up and done 
to a turn," said Clank to Wallie, "she says, T love Mr. O'Toole and 
Mr. O'Toole loves me. Goodbye, Bill, take care of yourself.' I 
couldn't have gotten a better jolt on the B. & O." 



Vic — "Where's the hammer, Dainus?" 

Frank — "I don't know where is hammer. Hammer was here a 



mniute ago. 



29 



Remember the time poor old Donaldson and Franklin McClain 
were "busted" for buying bananas? 



We wonder if Sam Salzman will ever be normal or if Roney 
will have to hit him again with a pick. 



The delinquency sheet : 

vSeaman 
Shiffman 
Boyd 
Seaman 
(Encore — ad infinitum.) 



On ao^ain, off aijain, g-one ae^ain — Vic Norris' mustache ! 



Wonder if Sergeant Hull still has his famous nightie and cap, — 
and how Lieutenant Sprague would have looked in them? 



Only a word is necessary to bring to mind that second trip to 
the artillery trenches, when we were in them from 4 P. M., April 
11th, to 7 P. M., April 12th— HELL. 



And then on Saturday, April 13th, we had a field inspection 



over on the race track. Sherman was right ! 



And then on Sunday, April 14th, instead of resting, we had to 
put up blanket racks. God help the Kaiser ! ! 



The Five Day Hike 

April \7th to April 2lst 

While this extended hike was a great endurance test, it was not 
nearly so hard on us as the one-day Hunt Club hike. We were more 
accustomed to the packs and our feet toughened to a greater extent. 
Furthermore, we did not cover nearly so many miles per day. The 
entire 73rd Brigade participated. 

Leaving camp by way of the Base Hospital, we turned to the 
right a short distance beyond and then to the left at the cross-roads 
in the woods, swinging onto the road to the Hunt Club. It was 
delightful weather for hiking, cool and cloudy, and we made our 
allotted seven miles with ease, pitching pup-tent camp at noon in a 
field near the Hunt Club. The afternoon was spent in ditching the 
tents, gathering brush for beds and putting up the kitchen. After 
mess we retired. It was a novelty for most of us, this sleeping in 
pup-tents, and as though the gods were intent upon giving us a full 
experience, it rained heavily during the night, with the inevitable 

30 



result that a number of the men got wet because they had failed to 
])cg and ditch their tents properly. 

The second day was much more difficult. Our unusual beds and 
the fury of the storm had robbed us of our customary amount of 
sleep, the roads were muddy, making marching difficult, and our 
water-soaked clothing and packs gave added trouble. After 
struggling ten miles under these conditions we were glad indeed 
when we reached Taylor Aviation Field, even though we had to 
make camp in oozy, sticky mud that clung to our clothing and shoes, 
and encumbered our shovels when it came to digging drainage 
trenches. We spent a miserable night. 

We rested the entire next day on the spot. A Y. M. C. A. 
tent was set up, and furnished paper and envelopes for those who 
desired to write, music from a small graphophone, and tobacco, 
apples and cigarettes. Many men gained entrance to the aviation 
field and raided the camp canteen for pop and candy, or amused 
themselves watching the work and tests going on in the hangars. 

The following day, Saturday, we broke camp early and hiked 
about ten miles further, doubling back towards Montgomery over a 
different road. It was a trying, but more cheerful hike, for the sun 
was shining brightly, drying the roads. Our camp that night was in 
a broad, gently rolling pasture of clover, that had been nibbled close 
by the cattle. It looked inviting and proved the opposite ; hard, damp 
and uncomfortable. To make matters worse, it rained and was very 
cold ^hat night, with the result that very few of us slept. 

Early Saturday morning we ate breakfast in the half-light of a 
cold, wet, gray dawn, policed the camp, and moved out on the last 
lap back to camp. It was a dirty, tired and utterly disillusioned 
gang that plodded through the outskirts of the city and on out the 
hilly road to Sheridan. This was our first test of the real business 
of soldiering. But what a difference music makes ! At the top of 
Peanut Hill we were met by the band. At the first strains of "Over 
There" our troubles were forgotten ; our return became a triumphal 
march. 



The wood-detail brought back more candy than wood from 
the aviation camp. 



The long-boys in those pup-tents had a lot of trouble keeping 
their ^'tootsies" dry. If the good Lord hadn't turned up so much 
for feet on most of them they'd have been wet to the knees. 



Vic Norris, in charge of the picket line detail, was nearly dis- 
tracted. Just when his boys would get things cleaned up nicely the 
mules would be driven from the watering place and tied up again. 



31 



In our company no pup-tent partnership was complete without 
an argument over which one should bum a shovel from some infantry 
man. 



Heard often in the wee hours of the morning: "Dammit! 

cwinin' thp hlanVpf c I" 



Quit swipin' the blankets! 



A pup tent's a rather small place to entertain ladies in. 

Necessity is the mother of invention. Sylvia had a helluva 
time for awhile, but finally got to sleep in the form of a letter *'S" ; 
but even that idea didn't keep Scott's feet dry, so he got a packing 
case from the kitchen and stuck them in that. 



Tommy (sticking his head out of the pup-tent) — ''Gosh! I 
might as well have enlisted in the navy !'* 



Remember how much more we appreciated that delivery of 
mail on the hike than any we'd had at camp ? 



Sometimes it's not so soft to be a cook ; especially on a hike like 
that, when all you've got is a dinky little field-range. 



Pretty soft for those birds who returned from their furloughs 
the day after we left camp. They didn't even have hot water ready 
in the bath-house when we got back. 



Remember the afternoon of April 29th, when we went to the 
pistol range, and it rained? Lieutenant Wedow drove up in his car 
with our slickers. We sure appreciated his thoughtfulness. 



On May 1st we had a battle on Peanut Hill which lasted until 
noon. We did noble work, — chased the blinkin' enemy darn near to 
Montgomery. 



Remember the big fire the night of May 1st? Corporal Scott 
jumped out of bed and heroically blew his little whistle. 

Shaps forgot how to count off, and the Skipper nearly ''tore 
him down." 

The cooks beat it to the fire with nothing but overcoats and 
shoes on. 

And finally when we did get formed up and, water pails in hand, 
double-timed over to the Coliseum, we found that it was the piles of 
hay and straw burning and that the division fire department had it 
under control. 

32 



And then they slapped a lot of fire-drills on us and ran us 
around camp with' full pails of water, to put out imaginary fires, 
until our tongues were hanging out. 



^'Simulate"— that's the word ! Next thing we know we'll have 
a simulated pay-day. 

On Friday, May 10th, our beloved foot-lockers went to the 
wood-pile and we were reduced to the use of barrack-bags. 



Alonday, May 20th, we turned in our cots and most of us 
slacked the canvas and slept on top of the tents. Next day the 
canvas of the tents was struck and the barrack-bags went to the 
train. We had our choice of sleeping on the oily tent floors or out 
in the street. The wise ones made hammocks of their shelter-halfs 
and slung them from the rafters. 



Camp Sheridan to Lee 

May 22nd-2Ath, 1918 

At last! We had about come to the conclusion that we were 
to be marooned at Camp Sheridan for the period of the war when 
we suddenly got orders to move. Our departure was carried out 
quietly and with no vain regrets at the prospect. We entramed 
about 9:00 P. M. the evening of May 22nd, with only our less- 
fortunate comrades of the artillery-brigade to bid us farewell. 
Although it had not been ofiicially announced, everyone knew that 
our destination was Camp Lee, Petersburg, Virginia. The trip was 
monotonous and uneventful. As we look back we find that our maui 
impression was that day-coaches and three-in-a-seat-sleeping ac- 
commodations were a deuce of a come-down from the Pullmans m 
which we came to Sheridan. 



Camp Lee 

May 24th-June Uth, 1918 

Camp Lee is a much larger cantonment than Camp Sheridan, 
and being a National Army Camp the troops are quartered in 
wooden buildings, or barracks. It is well laid out, the barracks 
being built in regimental groups along both sides of a wide cement 
luain avenue. The grounds, however, are absolutely devoid of vege- 
tation, and as the soil is of a sandy nature, the slightest breeze 

33 



raises a miniature sand-storm. All around the camp are broad 
parade and drill fields, and at one point a complete trench system 
has been built, which extends several miles back into the woods. 
The camp also has a large library and a fine theater. It has excellent 
car service to the city of Petersburg and a small amusement park 
nearby. 



''Where's the strike?" — the greeting we received at Camp Lee. 
To this may be traced the Lakemont Park battle, the discomfiture 
of the Petersburg M. P.'s, and our nickname — "The Black-Hand 
Division." 



Did it ever occur to you to compare canvas cots to spring beds? 
Barracks and spring beds! Imagine that for "Strike-Breakers." 



Why did we hang around the Hostess House so much? Let 
thy conscience be thy guide ! 



Sunday, June 9th, Lieutenant Wedow disappeared right under 
our noses, and Captain Wedow greeted us. That night we had ice 
cream and cake for dessert, and although nobody said so, we know 
the Skipper was at the bottom of it. Congratulations, Captain 
\\^edow ! 



Coming from Sheridan to Lee was like jumping out of the 
frying pan into the fire. Phew! Wasn't it hot? 



We discovered at Camp Lee that Smileage Books were good 
for something! 



Petersburg: — Half the size of Montgomery; half as interesting; 
half as friendly to us ; in a word — pretty darned slow ! 



The editor of that Petersburg "Squeal" must have had a son 
in the N. A. 



Camp Lee to Hoboken 

June nth-l2th, 1918 

Having been in readiness for a week to depart on short notice, 
we made our exit from Camp Lee with very little bustle or con- 

34 



fusion; boarding the train at 5:30 P. M. Tuesday, June 11th, and 
pulhng out about an hour later. Officially we had not been informed 
of our destination, but it was rumored universally to be Camp 
Merritt, New Jersey. Except for a beautiful moonlight view of the 
National Capitol as we passed through Washington, and the pic- 
turesque, well ordered, homelike character of the seaboard country, 
our journey was not markedly different from the others we had 
made. It would be mere repetition to recount the usual troop-train 
amusements in which we indulged. There were the customary 
card-games, crap-games and songs and the same hanging out of 
windows, shouting and whistling at every stop. 

Wednesday, June 12th, we were treated to an astounding sur- 
prise. Instead of finding ourselves in Camp Merritt, we detrained 
in the Lackawanna Station at Hoboken. Here we marched without 
delay into a large waiting room, and, stripping to the waist, received 
our final overseas physical examination. Events crowded one 
another so quickly that it was bewildering. In almost less time 
than it takes to tell it, we were shunted through the station and 
onto a ferryboat, ferried up the river and docked at the slips where 
several great liners were tied up. Then came a very aggravating 
delay of several hours in the receiving rooms of the wharf where 
the U. S. S. Leviathan lay tied up ; a delay that seem.ed very irksome 
to us in our keyed-up condition. Its only redeeming feature was 
the serving of hot coffee and buns by women of the Red Cross. 

At last, at about dusk, we got aboard the Leviathan and were 
assigned our quarters for the voyage. We occupied the two lowest 
decks in the bow of the great liner, — "G" and '*H" forward, — the 
latter being almost at the water line. The bunks were numbered 
and arranged in tiers of three, and each man upon passing over the 
gangplank received a card bearing his deck and bunk number. To 
avoid confusion we were ordered to remain in our bunks for the 
rest of the night. No permission was given to wander about ship 
or go up on the open decks, but this measure was hardly necessary, 
as the majority of us, weary in mind and body, were quite content 
to climb into our bunks and sleep. 



The Leviathan 

This great transport of ours, the U. S. S. Leviathan, was for- 
merly the German liner Vaterland, one of the many German ships 

35 




seized after the break in diplomatic relations between Germany and 

the United States, and later con- 
verted into carriers of troops. 
Her engines and boilers had been 
badly damaged before her crew 
departed, and evidently Germany 
believed the damage done to 
these vital parts would be irre- 
parable. American ingenuity 
overcame them, and she put to 
sea again, not only in perfect 
condition, but capable of greater 
speed than she had ever before 
attained. She was, and still is, 
the largest ship in the world, — 
nine hundred and fifty-four feet 
long, one hundred feet in beam, 
with a displacement of sixty-nine 
thousand tons. Her armament 
consisted of big, six-inch, naval 
guns, bow and stern, and she was 
camouflaged from water line to 
stacks with broad, zigzag stripes 
of blue, black and dull gray. Probably our most vivid impression 
of her was gained while we were waiting in the docks prior to em- 
barkation. Her massive proportions seemed to dwarf all other 
nearby shipping; even the great docks and warehouses seemed 
smaller because of her proximity, and man became a nonentity. 
The great ship seemed possessed of a personality. Though the 
creation of man, she gave the paradoxical impression that their 
comings and goings aboard her were subject to her domination, not 
she to theirs. 

New York to Brest 

June Ihth'Jiinc 22nd 
On the morning of Saturday, June 15th, our third day aboard, 
we had our first "Abandon Ship Drill," and great was our sur- 
prise when we reached the open decks and found that we were 
moving! We must have been moving for some time for the 
harbor laid behind us, and there, close by, loomed the Statue of 
Liberty ! So great was the ship and so evenly did she lay on her 
keel that, but for the testimony of our eyes, we would not have 
believed our voyage had begun ; down in the vessel's bowels not 
even a tremor had reached us. At exactly noon we passed Lib- 
erty, and wnth hats ofif and a peculiar clutch at our throats, bade 
farew^ell to our home-land ; never before had she been so dear to 
us. Then, after that brief farewell, we were ordered below, and 



36 



when next permitted on deck, after the afternoon mess, we were 
out of sight of land ; nothing in view but the boundless blue 
ocean, shimmering in the golden light of the lowering sun, the 
white, foamy "wash'' from the ship's bows in an ever-widening 
track behind her; a single destroyer chasing back and forth in 
great half-circles before her, and far head a dirigible balloon 
watching the green depths below for enemy submarines. 

Once the glamour and excitement of new experience had 
worn off. life settled again into routine and the days slipped by 
slowly. Our continement to certain portions of the ship became 
irksome ; there was no satisfaction in lying in our bunks down 
in the dark lower decks, and little amusement could be gained 
on the crowded open deck, — not even cloudy weather or a rough 
sea came to relieve the ennui that seemed to grip everything. 
Occasionally a tramp-steamer was sighted, arousing a ripple of 
interest; in one case the Leviathan slackened speed while the 
destroyer chased oft' to investigate the stranger and then re- 
turned, apparently satisfied, to continue our course. On the 
third day even the destroyer left us and we were absolutely 
alone, with only the long 'Svireless" aerial to indicate that we 
were still in touch with the world. 

On the night of the seventh day out we were ordered to sleep 
with all our clothes on, as we had entered the submarine danger- 
zone. A\'ith a few dry remarks and jokes that showed a faint 
undercurrent of apprehension, 
we retired. However, no "subs" 
came our way, and at 1 :00 P. 
M. the next day, Saturday, June 
22nd, we sighted land. Land ! 
It was like meeting a long-lost 
friend, and we strained our eyes 
to gather in every detail of this 
new country. Was it England 
or France? We knew not; but 
Rumor (inseparable part of the 
army that she is) said it was 
Brest, France, and Rumor was 
right. At 3 :00 o'clock the Le- 
viathan anchored in the pretty, 
land-locked harbor of that port ; 
a harbor sheltering many other 
great transports, old style sail- 
ing vessels, and innumerable 
small craft of every type and 
description. 

We had l)ecn in rOvKliness 
to debark several hours before 




Zl 



the tugs or ferries came to take us off. Our company was 
among the first to be landed and we made the short trip to the 
dock just as the sun was setting, bathing the land and sea in 
golden light. As the ferry tied up to the wharf and prepared 
to discharge her human freight, we received our first greeting in 
France ; small boys in dories and flat bottomed rowboats sur- 
rounded us, and from all sides came the cries, "Gimme a see- 
garette!" *'Gimme a penny!" Our national reputation for gen- 
erosity had preceded us, borne by the thousands of khaki-clad 
Americans who had landed here before. 

We saw little indeed of the city of Brest; only the wharves, 
railroad yards and that portion which lay along our route be- 
came part of our ever increasing store of memories and experi- 
ences. The company was hastily formed along a spur of track 
and shortly thereafter we fell in line with the regiment and pro- 
ceeded up the long hill through the town toward our camping 
ground in the open country. It was a late hour and darkness 
was settling fast, so we saw few civilians, although indeed there 
were more "kids" hanging to the skirts of the column, begging 
for pennies and cigarettes, than we relished. — That novelty began 
to wear off. — Once clear of the town we halted on the road and 
fell out along a high hedge to eat the sandwiches and cake that 
had been issued to us before we left the boat, but even here we 
were not at peace. "Donnez moi, sil-vous-plait" was still with 
us! 

We marched three miles through the cold, heavy mist that 
was rolling in from the sea, and finally pitched pup-tents hap- 
hazard in a wet field, which had evidently been used for the same 
purpose before. This was the "Rest Camp" we had heard about 
where we were to rest and clean up for a few days ! The morn- 
ing sun revealed a chaos of confusion that the night had 
shrouded ; pup-tents set at random, equipment scattered every- 
where, and piles of rations and field kitchen impedimenta lying 
on the ground. Everything was cold and soaked with dew, but 
under the enlivening influence of the sun we set about the busi- 
ness of "straightening up" with a will, and by noon had pro- 
duced an orderly, clean encampment. When the work was done 
and we had messed, we found time to look about us and realize 
that this was Sunday, and our first day in France. 

The surrounding country was mostly pastureland, squared 
off in one-acre plots by tall, untrimmed hedges, and of rolling, 
hilly character. There were a few high-gabled, red-tile roofed, 
whitewashed stone houses within sight, but apparently the land 
was devoted solely to dairy farms as indicated by the small 

38 



herds of cows. In the distance could be seen a couple of church 
spires, marking the sites of villages. Aside from our camp, how- 
ever, there was nothing in the entire scene to indicate that we 
were in a war-torn land. 



'Git off of them winches!" 



That major at the foot of "D" deck stairs: "All right; let's 
go ! One, two, three, four ! One, two, three, four !'' 



Going and coming to mess took up most of the day. It was 
one grand rush ! Slowly, slowly, we struggled through the hot, 
fetid, center troop-decks in long lines, then plunged four abreast 
down the mess hall stairs into the chaos below, and past steam- 
ing boilers of food to the tables. Having bolted the "eats" we 
took another plunge into the swirling throng in the superheated 
dish-washing room, and fought our way to the open air of the 
upper deck. What a relief! 



Spence Coleman and Lee Kurfis couldn't stand confinement 
any longer. '*B" deck drew them as the magnet draws iron- 
filings. Colonel Merrill (nuisance to pleasure seeking privates) 
spotted them. — Extra duty for 
the remainder of the voyage ! 



Had it ended there they 
couldn't have complained, but 
the sergeants seemed to think 
they were on extra duty for the 
duration of the war ! 



(Corporal Hull down in 
**H-4" every morning.) *'Get 
up ! Everybody get up." Lis- 
ten to the birdie, boys! 



George Tepper was guard 
for a day or so near the first- 
sergeants' mess-room, and lived 
a life of ease and plenty. He 
palmed himself off as a first ser- 
geant every meal with com- 
plete success. 




>9 



Raines made enough money selling candy to enable him to 
retire from the barber business. 



Carlin "five-fingered" a "B" deck pass from the officers' 
mess-hall. Where there's a will there's a way ! 



Guess Lieutenants Fri and Smith had a helluva time keep- 
ing order on their respective troop-decks. It was like trying to 
sit on a bees' nest to keep the bees in, — bound to get stung! 



They stuck poor Pap Southworth on guard down near the 
galley, and then forgot where his post was. Pap, faithful soldier 
that he is, stayed on all night. 



Lt. Fri — *'Men ! This noise must stop ! Taps has blown ! 
(Noise continues.) Corporal Shiffman, you will see to it that the 
men maintain silence !" 

Well, that was easy enough for Ben ! He was the one mak- 
ing all the racket ! 



Remember that sea-water hose bath we had up on "B" deck? 



Now that we look back, it is amusing to note that they took 
us to town in squads to let us lap up a little booze, — light wine 
at that. Wonder what would happen if they tried that stunt now? 



With due dignity, and an eye for the dramatic effect, the 
Colonel announced on June 24th that we were to leave for the 
battle front, and be held as reserves to be used in an emergency. 
How thrilling! 

That reminds us that, judging by the angle of his cute little 
''come to Jesus" cap, the Colonel had a snootful of that light wine 
himself. 



"Well," says Thomas Bruce. ''There have been some famous 
men in this great war and they have rendered some great services, 
but it would be a shame to forget that "Stand-to" Roush served 
as one of the K. P.'s on the Leviathan. He says he's never been 
hungry since." 

40 



Lessiter tells us that when we were ordered to clean up our 
mess kits for inspection at Brest, he was looking around for some 
rags and saw Jesse Chisnell industriously at work. ''Where did 
you get all the good rags, Jesse?" ''Oh, just a pair of dirty socks 
I happened to have," replied the long-boy. 



41 




Brest to Goncourt 

June 25tJi-Junc 28th 

We broke camp on Tuesday, June 25th, at 4:00 A. M., 
although we could hardly see the necessity of rising at that hour 
to stand around and shiver while the ''powers that be" fussed 
over minor details. But c'est I'armee ! After the usual amount 
of ''dilly-dallying" we were at last formed in column of squads 
and marched into Brest, arriving at the railhead about 8 :00 
o'clock. More standing around with packs on was our portion 
before we entrained, — a period in which we had ample time to 
look over our side-door Pullmans. 

■ We saw before us a long string of dinky box-cars on siding ; 
the same famous "Hommes-40, Chevaux-8" wagons of which 
Arthur Guy Empey has told the world. We had read of them 
and knew what to expect, but the actual sight of them was an 
awful jolt. Was it possible that we were to ride in those frail, 
ill-smelling, four-wheeled little cattle-cars? A self-respecting 
American steer would have rebelled at the prospect ! "At last," 
we told one another, "we have reached the lowest ebb of trans- 
portation, — from 'Pullmans' to this !" But the worst was yet to 
come, — later in our experience we encountered trucks. 

When at last we were herded, forty in a car, we began to 
realize the difficulties before us if the trip should prove very 
long. A crude set of benches had been constructed with a sup- 
posed seating capacity of forty men ; in reality scarcely thirty 
could manage to squeeze in. If they had been constructed as a 
sop to our injured American ideas of comfort they failed igno- 
miniously in their object, for by night we were cussing them 
heartily and were strongly tempted to tear them out and cast 
them from the car. 

The beauty of the coimtry through which we were passing 
temporarily caused us to forget our troubles. Here, indeed were 

42 



scenes well worth looking at ; quaint villages, mere clusters of 
a dozen white stone houses around a stone church, were scat- 
tered at intervals of about three miles, their red tile roofs gleam- 
ing brightly in the sunshine against the fresh green of the hedges 
and fields ; white roads wound through them and disappeared 
over the hills ; at each crossing of the railroad was a gatekeeper's 
lodge and garden, choked with flowers and growing vegetables. 

At one point we passed over a high bridge spanning a deep 
cut in which, directly below us, nestled a town of quite large size, 
whose main street was a sluggish canal which flowed between 
low stone w^alls. Several barges and canal boats were tied up at 
the wharves, but there was apparently little traffic, as the tow- 
path seemed littered and grass-grown from disuse. 

When night came and we could no longer find amusement 
at the car doors, our real troubles began. We had messed on 
cold victuals, — ''Willie," bread and tomatoes, — and felt unsatis- 
fied as a result. There began a ceaseless squirming and turning, 
grunting and growling, fervent outbursts of cussing, as we tried 
to maneuver our tangled bodies and legs into at least semi- 
comfortable positions. Alas ! it was an impossibility ; we suc- 
ceeded only in snatching sleep at odd moments as the endless 
night wore on. So that those near the car doors might find relief 
from the cold night air, it was necessary to close them, and by 
morning, like that of a prison, the atmosphere was foul with the 
reek of its former occupants, the cattle, and vitiated by the breath- 
ing of forty human beings. A small few of us, preferring w^ake- 
fulness and fresh air to stifling within, found refuge in the brake- 
man's towers outside. 

After three days of this sort of traveling, slow at the best 
and further delayed by frequent stops and lay-overs on sidings, 
we entered a very mountainous country and passed through 
numerous tunnels. Our route from Brest had led through the 
cities of Saint Brienc, Orleans, Le Mans, Chatillon-sur-Loire, 
Is-sur-Tille, Nevers and Dijon, and on toward the Vosges Moun- 
tains. We were several hours late and instead of reaching our 
destination at 11:00 A. M. June 27th, as scheduled, we ar'rived 
at 2:00 A. M. the morning of the 28th. 

The night was extremely dark, damp and chilly when the 
train came to a stop, and the orders to detrain were shouted 
hoarsely into the car doors. We were terribly weary from lack 
of sleep, and piled out onto a sort of gravel platform in a daze. 
Those that found spirit enough to look about the place were 
poorly repaid for the efifort ; all that could be seen was the dusky 
train, a couple of shacks, and the hazy outline of a steep hill with 

43 



an intangible suggestion of a tower near the summit. We were 
hastily formed in column of squads and, skirting the train, 
entered a small village whose presence we had failed to observe 
before. It seemed as though the heavy footsteps of the men and 
the clattering of horses' hoofs were loud enough to awaken the 
dead, but the sleeping villagers were apparently undisturbed, — 
not a single curious head appeared in a window or door. No 
doubt they were accustomed long ago to the sound of marching 
men at all hours of the day or night. 

As we left the village, which we found later Avas St. Thie- 
bault, the cloud bank overhead scudded by and the clear light of 
the moon revealed to us a broad, rolling valley up which our road 
wound, glistening white. The road hugged the left side, close 
to the low, rugged hills. After a hike of about three miles we 
halted at a group of old, wooden, tar-papered barracks for the 
rest of the night, and early next morning moved on. We had not 
far to go ; about five hundred yards from the barracks a bend of 
the road revealed another village nestling at the foot of the hills, 
and we were assigned to billets in the old stone houses. The 
name of the village w^as Goncourt, and we were to remain there 
indefinitely. 



44 




June 28th-JuIy 23rd 

The village of Goncourt is located on the Meuse River at a 
point about fifteen kilometres south of the city of Neuf-Chateau, 
in the foot-hills of the Vosges Mountains. Like all the small 
towns of about five hundred population in this district of France, 
it nestles down in a hollow of the land, a cluster of closely built 
stone houses around a small church. To the tourist or stranger 
these villages are a continual surprise ; one comes upon them 
suddenly around a bend of the road where he never suspected a 
town to exist, and, having passed on, finds that they have disap- 
peared just as mysteriously, — swallowed up in the folds of the 
land or hidden among the heavily wooded ridges. 

Goncourt is laid out in the rough form of the letter "T," 
although to be true, its streets are far from being as straight as 
that letter would indicate. Its main street, the Grande Rue, is 
merely a portion of the Neuf-Chateau road running due north. 
Another road leads out of town to the east across the Meuse 
toward the village of Sommrecourt, while the road forming the 
other arm of the "T" curves west toward the city of Chaumont. 
At the cross of the ''T" on a little knoll is the village church, a 
small stone building surmounted by a high, slender belfry and 
spire. Practically all the stores are to be found on the Grande 
Rue ; the Epecerie, — sweets and notions ; Mercerie, — dry-goods ; 
Roucherie, — butcher shop ; Boulangerie, — grocery, and a few 
wineshops. One has to seek out these stores more by instinct 
than by sight ; they are usually concealed in houses of ordinary 
appearance, behind closed shutters and indicated only by small, 
grimy, and often partially obliterated signs. 

The houses were all of similar type, built of rough sand- 
stone, in most cases unchiseled and laid just as it was quarried, 
the chinks being filled with chips and coarse mortar. This method 
of construction necessitated great thickness of walls, and most 
of them measured at least two feet. The roofs were mostly of , 
tile, high-gabled, and laid on frames of heavy rough-hewn rafters. 

45 



A few of the poorer houses were roofed with thin sla1)s of stone 
overlaid with grasses. Usually one side of the house was de- 
voted to two or three rooms for the family, while, separated by 
a partition, the other half contained the stables for the cattle and 
horses. In the loft above was kept a store of hay and straw. 
The larger and more pretentious houses had walled gardens at 
the rear, but there were few of these ; most houses had no sign 
of a garden, and often their rear walls butted solidly against 
the hillside. Every house had its manure pile in the front door 
yard. Truly, as Mark Twain said, one could judge their wealth 
by the size and offensiveness of their manure pile ! 

When we first entered the town we were crowded into two 
or three lofts filled with musty straw, old chicken w^ire, pallets 
or bunks, dust, and old worn out bits of clothing left by former 
occupants. Later we were assigned to somewhat better, lighter 
and more cleanly billets in the northern end of the town. To be 
truthful, it must be said that these billets were clean only after 
we had cleared and swept them of all rubbish ; but though we 
labored often and even cleaned the streets each day it was im- 
possible to maintain very sanitary conditions. However, in a 
week's time we grew accustomed to the odor of the stables below 
us and thought no more of it. 

Our kitchen and mess hall, because no other adequate quar- 
ters could be obtained, were situated at the opposite end of the 
town from our billets, and therefore we went to mess in company 
formation. It seemed very peculiar at first to line up for mess 
in the village street, but the unusual was rapidly supplanting the 
former routine of our army life so, like the billets, it became a 
mere matter of course. 

There were many things becoming matters of course, but w^e 
haci not yet become accustomed to the lack of baths ; conse- 
quently, over ten days having elapsed since our hose-bath on 
the Leviathan, we rushed at the earliest opportunity to the Meuse 
River when we arrived in Goncourt. Perhaps most of us had 
expected to find a fairly wide and clean stream because the Meuse 
was marked "river" on the map and we had read so much con- 
cerning it in the war news, but all of us were disappointed. It 
was a mere creek that flowed lazily between low, grassy banks and 
reedy marshes. The slightest disturbance caused the ooze of the 
bottom to rile the water. Baths and the washing of clothes were 
a necessity, however, so we swallowed our disappointment and 
made the best of the matter. 

We had only a couple of days of freedom, and then, on Mon- 
day, July 1st, we entered upon our first drill schedule in France. 
After a week of drill at the trench system a few miles from town, 

46 



consisting mostly of squad drill, calisthenics, target designation, 
elementary machine gun drill, and lectures by the French cap- 
tain detailed to our company, we retired to our own special drill 
grounds on the hillside around our mess hall and settled down in 
earnest to strictly machine gun Avork. Many of our men were 
those transferred to the company just before we left Sheridan, 
but the interest and speed which they exhibited in mastering the 
new work enabled us to progress wonderfully. When we went 
to a nearby machine gun range on the eighteenth of July, we all 
made splendid records. We crowded the few weeks we were at 
Goncourt with incessant w^ork, and consequently when we were 
ordered to move to the front on the twenty-third we were well 
trained and full of confidence. 



The sergeants w^ere billeted in a very cozy loft while we 
were at Goncourt, but Waldo had the edge on the rest of them. 
The old lady w^ho lived below took a shine to him and offered 
him a good old feather bed in one of her spare rooms. That 
same evening he went out and soaked up quite a bit of Vin Rouge 
which proved more powerful than he had anticipated ; at any rate, 
the sergeants say that, judging by the clamor and racket that 
went on wdien he got back, Waldo must have gotten into the 
wrong bed. 



When we finally did get a Y. M. C. A. at Goncourt, it was 
usually closed except during drill hours, when nobody could get 

to it. 



Do you remember that grand and glorious feeling when, on 
July 10th, the Camp Lee mail 
reached us? 



Gosh, what fiends we were 
chocolate dui 
month in France ! 



for chocolate during that first 



Were you one of the dudes 
that celebrated the glorious 
Fourth by going on wood detail 
three miles into the country 
when there was "boo-coo" wood 
within a hundred yards of the 
mess-hall? 



Remember that old maid 
school teacher who preferred of- 
ficers to enlisted men? Well, 




47 



we know what she got ! (We don't mean that nice schooh-na'am 
who taueht the men French every evening.) 



Sing a song of Gonconrt, 
Coleman wants some meat, — 
Comes in late at mess-time, 
Goes out again, ''Tout-suite !" 



Lieutenant Fri was bashful, — he always struck a September 
Morn pose whenever he was in swimming and a skirt appeared 
on the horizon. 

We were issued wrap-leggings and overseas caps shortly after 
our arrival in Goncourt, and then, as is characteristic of the army, 
were forbidden to wear them. 



Wlien they finally did conclude to let us ^year them what a 
motley appearance we made! Those spirals simply couldn't be 
molded to the leg, and each lap hung out like the ruffles on an old 
fashioned pair of "Panties." 

Old "Sir Bunnyface" Carlin was a great student of French. 
One day he caught a little French boy up in his billet and sus- 
pected him of stealing some chocolate that he had missed. He 
chased the lad out and then seeing the mother in the street below, 
tried to tell her to keep him out in the future. She couldn't under- 
stand and Carlin lost his temper. 

"Dammit!" he shouted. "Garcon Venir— up— here— and— er 
— apporter chocolat !" 

Johnson seeks adventure, 

Spencer wants some, too, 

So they go to Bourmont 

There to "Parle-vous." 

Get to feeling classy. 

Come back on the train. 

Train speeds right through Goncourt, 

They can't get off' again! 

When the train stops running, 

Thev're in Neuf-Chateau. 

M. P. says, "Get out of here!" 

Where can soldats go? 

Sleeping in the bushes, 

48 



Dew is cold and wet, 
Hiking- back on Sunday, 
Guess they won't forget! 

When you seek adventure, 
In this land of France, 
If you take a railroad train, 
You also take a chance! 

—VAN. 



On Friday, July 12th, Captain Wedow, Sergeant Stimmel 
and Sergeant Chapman left the company for a month of IMachine- 
srun School. 



Dirty work ! Vic and Perk went back on us and helped pre- 
pare the gashouse for the torture of their comrades. However, 
guess we'ought to thank them, for it taught us that gas masks 
were made to be used. We sure hung on to our "Return Tickets 
to Hoboken" thereafter ! 

Zellner was hungry, very hungry, the day we arrived in 
Goncourt. "My stomach thought my throat was cut," he says. 
"I snooped around town until I spotted a family eating dinner. 
I went in and after much rag-chewing and sign language, suc- 
ceeded in making them "compree" that I wanted something to 
eat. Then I sat down to wait until they had finished, and noticed 
that they made a good deal of noise wdiile eating the soup. Far be 
it from me to ofifend these sensitive people, thought I, so when 
they brought mine I made noise enough to be heard across the 
street, much to their delight." 

Evidently "When in Rome, do as the Romans do" is the 
motto of the diplomatic Private Zellner. 

"I'll do most anything for money," says the sober and indus- 
trious Sir Henry Ol'iver Slopjar Sparks, "but I had to quit dog- 
robbin' — was:es was too uncertain." 



W^e don't kick much at having the non-coms go in to mess at 
the head of the line, but darned if we can see this stuff of their 
butting into the dish-washing line. It was started at Goncourt, 
but stopped "toot-sweet !" 

We never put off until tomorrow the things we shouldn't do 
today. Result — Extra Duty ! 

49 



Absolute knowledge I have none 

But my aunt's wash-woman's sister's son 

Heard a policeman on his beat 

Say to a laborer on the street 

That he had a letter just last week 

Written in the finest Greek 

From a Chinese coolie in Timbuctu 

Who said that the negroes in Cuba knew 

Of a colored man in a Texas town 

Who got it straight from a circus clown 

That a man in the Klondike heard the news 

From a gang of South American Jews 

About somebody in Borneo 

Who knew a man who claims to know 

Of a swell society female fake 

Whose mother-in-law will undertake 

To prove that her seventh husband's sister's niece 

Had stated in a printed piece 

That she had a son who had a friend 

Who knows when the war is going to end ! 

— Apologies to Someone. 



According to Hamer Farrell the only women who aren't dan- 
gerous to a soldier's peace of mind are over seventy and under 
seven. 



Advice to M. P.'s. If you are tempted to cuss the army, 
remember that the doughboys in the trenches do their hardest 
work at 4:30 in the morning, and they don't stop when their eight 
hours are up or get a chance to loaf around a wine-shop. They 
haven't even a YMCA to get to and often not a cigarette to 
smoke. 



50 



Goncourt to Bru 

July ?J^rd, 1918 

Being the last company to leave Goncourt we were naturally 
''saddled" with the work of the final clean-up of the town. Early 
in the morning, having brought our packs to the mess-hall, we 
were detailed by squads to police all the streets and billets which 
had been occupied by the regiment. This occupied our time until 
almost noon, our work also having included the salvaging of all 
equipment that had been left behind. 

Leaving the village at about one o'clock in a fine drizzling 
rain, we marched without halt to Saint Thiebolt, the town at 
which we had detrained less than a month ago. Nearby, on a 
very high and steep hill, is the town of Bourmont. Having 
loaded and then taken on our travel rations, we were soon on our 
way. The train made excellent speed and before night we had 
passed through Neuf-Chateau, Toul and Nancy, and were headed 
southeast in the general direction of Luneville, which town, how- 
ever, we did not enter, having taken a branch road that bore us 
further to the south. At about midnight we detrained at a rail- 
head near the village of Moyen. 

Great care and strict precautions were taken against the 
showing of lights; a fact that in the light of later experiences 
seems amusing, but which was really quite necessary to our 
safety, as the railhead had recently been a target for numerous 
air-raids. We were now higher up in the mountains, and the wet 
night air penetrated to our very bones as we waited throughout 
the dark hours until morning. No one seemed to know why we 
did not move from the railhead, although it was whispered that 
we were awaiting trucks. Conversation and conjecture as to our 
final destination ran rife among us, some insisting that we were 
going directly to the front lines ; others ''pooh-poohing'' the 
notion and stating their belief that we were to be billeted in some 
town near, but not on, the front. The latter faction, which had 
considered the problem coolly, were correct, — at seven that morn- 
ing we were loaded in trucks and after a two-hour ride, which 
ended at the small town of Bru, two and a half kilometers from 
Rambervillers, we entered billets. 

51 




July 23rd- August 2nd 

Bru, a village not quite as large as Goncourt, lies in a valley 
flanked by the green Vosges Mountains. In appearance it is 
much the same as Goncourt, having the same type of houses and 
stores and being built along the main road. In the center of the 
town, branching at right angles to the north of the "main drag" 
to Rambervillers, is another road along which part of the village 
is strung. There is a tiny stone bridge at this junction of the two 
roads under which flows a clear, narrow, mountain brook, and 
here was our favorite lounging spot. The village church and 
most of our billets were on this street, as almost every house 
along the conspicuous main road had been destroyed by air-raids 
or dynamited during the occupation by the Germans in the first 
flush of their success at the beginning of the war. Bru was the 
point at which the invading tide had been turned back in the 
Lorraine Sector. The Huns never reached Rambervillers, one of 
their important objectives because of its railroads. Our kitchen 
was set up in one of the ruined dwellings. 

Our work at Bru was very light, as we were now in actual 
fighting zone reserve, and subject to air observation and attacks. 
Our sojourn here was really a rest from the intensive training at 
Goncourt prior to our entrance into the front line. 

A Ghost Story 

Any man who was unfortunate enough to have been on street 
guard while we were at Bru will undoubtedly appreciate this 
story, especially if his post led by the old church. In fact, almost 
every man has a clear vision of that old church and the graveyard 
surrounding it; the strange beadwork wreaths, old headstones, 
and the graves of fallen French soldiers in the corner of the walls 
at the rear, marked only by wooden crosses and medallions of 
red, white and blue bearing their names. 

It was Private Stewart's trick at guard. He and his partner 
on guard had heard a great deal about the strange squeaking 

52, 



noise which was said to issue from the church belfry at night, 
and they determined to investigate it. The guards they reHeved 
told them with rather ashamed countenances, but with evident 
sincerity, that they had heard this strange creaking and that, 
though loath to believe in ghosts, it had surely caused a "creepy 
feeling." 

Midnight came, and "Stew" and his fellow guard met at the 
little stone bridge. The night Avas intensely still and the moon 
shone from a clear sky, bathing the town in pale light. 

"I've heard it. Stew," said the other. "Listen!" 

They were quite some distance from the church, but faintly 
through the still night air came a curious sound not unlike the 
buzzing of a locust or the creaking of a shutter swinging on its 
hinges. They listened intently, but suddenly it ceased, possibly 
drowned by a slight breeze that sprung up. Both took a hitch at 
their belts. 

"Well,— let's go I" 

As they neared the church the noise began again, gaining in 
volume as they approached. They halted in the shadow of a house 
and gazed up at the belfry. The noise continued, but seemed sub- 
dued, like the tw^ittering of a bird. It came at regular intervals, 
as the swinging of a pendulum. A door of the church stood 
slightly ajar. The situation was "creepy" indeed ! 

"Oh, Hell," said Stew, "let's go up and find out what it is." 

They slipped quietly across the street and up the wide stone 
steps. Within, they were in semi-darkness, but succeeded in find- 
ing the door to the belfry stairs. Up they went, — on tiptoes, and 
w^ith hands on their pistols. The creaking became plainer, and 
finally, with bated breath they entered the room that contained 
the mechanism of the big church clock. There was nothing to 
shoot at. The strange noise proved to be only the creaking of 
the weights as they descended at regular intervals. 

Now that the mystery was solved their two minds held but a 
single thought: "Let's have some fun out of this." 

Next day they took Vic Norris and Coleman into their con- 
fidence, and spread the tale of the strange noise through the com- 
pany, not mentioning the fact, of course, that they had investi- 
gated it. That night they corralled a few unsuspecting, but nervy 
comrades, for the purpose of discovering the ghosts, among them 
Lee Kurfis and George Bartow. Stewart and Coleman disap- 
peared quietly and hid themselves in the belfry above the clock. 
Led by Vic and Johnson the innocents entered the church and 
mounted the stairs. With the shaded light of matches they pussy- 

53 



footed upward. The creaking noise grew more plain, and just at 
the entrance of the clock-room the two conspirators that were 
leading them halted. 

"Listen!" they whispered. 

Another sound reached their trembling ears — a low, subdued, 
ghostly moaning and groaning issued from the dark heights of 
the belfry. 

"My gosh, let's get out of here," cried Bartow, and turning 
on the stairs the whole bunch stampeded. Johnson and Norris 
remained behind to congratulate Stew and Coleman upon their 
excellent impersonation of ghosts. Kurfis, however, had not been 
fooled. They found him waiting at the entrance of the church, — 
the rest had taken to their heels, — and but for him they would 
have been locked in the church by the old priest, who had been 
aroused by the unseemly racket and was closing and locking the 
doors ! 



Our First Air-Raid 

Monday— July 29th, 1918 

Few of us will ever forget that first air-raid at Bru. Although 
we found out later that it was over the city of Rambervillers, 
two and a half kilometers away, we shall always consider it "our" 
air-raid, for we were sure that night that it was intended for us. 

Most of us had been in our bunks for an hour or two and 
were fast asleep. At about 10:00 P. M. we were awakened by a 
series of sharp explosions, the whir of motors, and the popping 
of machine guns. A few seconds 
later the guards came rushing 
through the billets with the cry, 
"Everybody out." We hurriedly 
donned our clothes, — many were 
already dressing, — and tumbled 
into the streets. Lieutenant Shultz 
ordered everyone to take cover and 
keep off the streets, and we scat- 
tered like chaff before the wind. 
Some of us did not stop until we 
were out in the open fields beyond 
the limits of the village. 

Meanwhile a terrific commo- 
tion was going on somewhere 
above us. We could see nothing 
although we gazed intently at the 

54 




star-splashed heavens and scanned them from horizon to horizon 
Half a dozen more "socks" were dropped, the explosions shakinc^ 
the ground beneath our feet. A lively air battle was in full 
swmg,— we could tell by the buzzing of the motors and staccato 
bursts of machme gun fire that the planes were darting swoop- 
^"fV^}7^"^ ^"^ charging one another. Signal-balloons' glowed 
reddish-yellow along the northern horizon towards the front lines. 
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the raid came to an end. The 
enemy fled for his own lines, closely pursued by our planes The 
whirring of motors grew fainter and fainter, then indistinct, and 
hnally beyond earshot. 

The following night the raiders came again and a hot battle 
ensued directly over the town. One enemy plane swooped down 
to withm a hundred yards of the main road and swept it with 
machine gun fire. Most of us, however, remained in bed, content 
to let them go to it, and refusing to be stirred up again as we 
were the night before. 

Scott jumped about a foot in the air at the crash of the first 
bomb, scrambled into half his clothes, grabbed his range-finder 
and tore out into the street. He ripped and roared, ordered the 
g;uns mounted, and raved about connecting files and the ammuni- 
tion dump. Then he set up his range-finder and tried to get the 
range on the enemy. Might as well have tried the North Star ' 
After that we called him Range-finder Scott 



One old French dame started running around with a lighted 
lantern, — guess she was going to help Scott get the range ! 



Meanwhile a few birds with an eye for opportunity got away 
with half the contents of her wine-cellar. 



Bugler Speary had to crawl under the little stone bridge on 
his hands and knees through the water to get away from the fire 
of the plane which was shooting up the burg the second night. 

_ Most of the civilians remained in their houses during both 
raids. No doubt they thought we were a bunch of maniacs, and 
you can hardly blame them,— especially when vou consider "get- 
ting the range." 



"Educated" Ben Shiflfman, Seaman, "Bunnv" Donahue and 
Matt Manning spent most of their time at that little brick bakery. 



55 



We couldn't *'see" her sister, but SHE was certainly a very petite 
and jolie mademoiselle. 



Remember that old Frog who was Zig-Zag one night and 
amused us for over an hour turning somersaults, dancing the 
wiggles, and eating live cigarette butts? 



Dick Evans was very bashful. He wouldn't kiss little Mar- 
guerite even w^hen she asked him. But Scotty wasn't a bit back- 
ward about it. 



Sunday, the 28th, all gun squad corporals and gunners left 
for the Front. 



Bru to the Front 

August 2nd- August 3rd 

We left Bru the evening of Friday, August 2nd, at 7:30 P. 
M., to enter the front lines for the first time. The dusk of evening 
settled into impenetrable darkness as we came to the end of the 
first hour of hiking and halted at the village of Saint Benoit to 
rest. At Saint Benoit we turned northward into the rough, wild 
southern ranges of the Vosges Mountains. The roads were very 
narrow and winding, flanked by the tall pine, cedar, oak and pop- 
lar, and bordered by treacherous ditches. It was impossible to 
see ten feet ahead ; even the ranks of the men before us were 
scarcely visible, and consequently the march was very trying to 
the nerves as we had to virtually feel our way through the inky 
blackness and were in constant danger of walking ofif into the 
ditches. 

After four hours of steady hiking we emerged into mountain- 
ous but comparatively clear country. Here the road hugged 
closely to the side of the ridge. Below was a broad valley. The 
night was so murky and so heavy with dew that, until our eyes 
had grown accustomed to the change of light after emerging from 
the forest, we thought the level, grayish-white mist that shrouded 
the valley was the smooth surface of a lake. This is an optical 
illusion very common in all mountainous portions of France. 

We had covered over twenty kilometers of the rugged roads 
and were *'dog-tired." Only a soldier who has trudged these 
w^eary distances under full pack and complete equipment can ap- 
preciate the meaning of that expression ; the sawing, cramping, 

56 



and rheumatic pains that come in the shoulders from the binding 
slings of heavy blanket-rolls ; the sharp burning of the skin where 
the pistol belt rubs the hip-bones ; the feeling of collapse that 
comes in the thighs ; the sandy, blistered sensation and aching 
arches in the feet. All these things tend to sap the entire strength 
of the body, but somehow we have had the will to ''stick'' drilled 
into us. Our former Captain, now Major Chambers, succeeded 
in instilling a "never-say-die" spirit into the company that we 
have carried through the war. We make this statement without 
the slightest intent to belittle our comrades in the line companies 
of the regiment, that in the Machine Gun Company a man would 
feel intensely ashamed to give in and fall out of ranks on a march. 
A very few have done this during our travels and then only be- 
cause they were really ill, or completely exhausted. In looking 
back over the past we realize that our capacity of endurance has 
often reacted against us, and that we have been pressed harder in 
many marches than we might otherwise have been, but we always 
pulled through in good shape, and now we are proud of our 
record. 

After w^e emerged from the black forest we hiked only two 
kilometers further, and at 11 :30 halted at a small cluster of five 
or six houses and were billeted in the hay lofts. Our kitchen had 
hot coffee ready for us in a short time, but most of us were so 
weary that we passed it up, and flopping down in the hay, drew 
our overcoats over us and fell asleep. 

As it was necessary, because of the possibility of observation 
by enemy planes, to make all movements after dark, we enjoyed a 
long sleep and rest the following day. Many of us wandered 
about the woods and valleys in the vicinity, which we found very 
interesting. There were old trenches and barbed-wire defences 
built across the low lands of the valley and extending up and over 
the wooded hills. We found many old dugouts of marvelous 
depth, and investigated their dark, wet recesses until our curi- 
osity was satisfied and our ardor for exploration had flagged. 

At seven-thirty that evening we again took the road, which 
now became more winding as it followed the side of the valley. 
W^e passed through the towns of La Chapelle and Betrichamps 
and then entered the wild hills again, traveling in a general north- 
easterly direction. Pitch darkness settled once more over the 
land and there was an indication of coming rain in the air and 
sky. Two men were detailed as aeroplane guards and marched 
a couple of hundred yards ahead of the main body where the 
tramp of feet would not interrupt hearing. We halted several 
times at the sound of buzzing motors overhead and took up the 
march again when it ceased, sticking at all times to the darkest 

57 



portion of the road, a precaution really unnecessary because of 
the blackness of the night. 

Just beyond Betrichamps we passed a column of troops our 
division was relieving, — men of the 77th Division. They greeted 
us with many shouts and sallies, among which one was often re- 
peated, — ''Give 'em hell, boys, — we did." We didn't argue then 
about the brand of hell they claimed to have given ''J^^^'Y/' fo^" 
we felt that as they were apparently troops who had seen service 
we had no right to judge them. 

As we penetrated further into the mountains the road be- 
came correspondingly more difficult and our progress was slow. 
At Indian Village, the supply base for the sector, we halted to 
drop the ration cart from the column. Indian Village is a portion 
of a dense w^oods throughout which are scattered numerous small 
shacks, stables and warehouses, safe from air observation to any 
great extent. It was midnight when we stopped there, and of 
course we could see nothing more of the place than a break in 
the line of trees that gave entrance to it. After leaving Indian 
Village we went down a steep narrow defile into the town of 
Neuf Maisons, — which lay in a deep sheltered valley, — through 
its silent echoing streets, and up another steep hill to the plateau 
beyond. We were now about five kilometers from the front and 
on high, clear ground, — an extremely exposed position. The 
weather, however, was in our favor, the sky being overcast with 
a thick blanket of black storm clouds and rain beginning to fall. 

After slightly more than an hour of steady hiking we came 
to a gradual descent and entered a small village which we learned 
later was Pexonne. Here the storm broke in all its fury. We 
were forced to halt, as it was absolutely impossible to see the 
way ahead. The night had been dark, but now came blackness 
indescribable. The shadowy buildings faded from sight; it was 
as though we had plunged into an inky void. For over half an 
hour the rain fell in torrents and we were soaked to the skin. 
Although we cannot vouch for the truth of it, the statement was 
made later that this forced delay saved us a great deal of danger 
and trouble, as the enemy shelled the road near the front about 
half an hour before we came through, having had information of 
our coming. When the storm had spent itself and the darkness 
had lifted sufficiently for us to proceed, we went on through the 
town, stopping again at the building used for headquarters of the 
battalion to pick up more ammunition and the men from the other 
division who were to guide us to our positions. As we left the 
town we adjusted our gas masks to the alert position. 

We were now nearing the front and on a winding but level 
road, camouflaged on the sides by screents of wire-netting which 

58 



supported a mass of pine twigs, thus preventing observation of 
traffic from all points except directly overhead. There were also 
screens strung across the road at intervals of about twenty or 
thirty yards, which hung high enough to permit the passage of 
wagons and prevented angular observations by enemy balloons. 
Of course such camouflage is readily apparent to the enemy, but 
its purpose is to conceal, rather than to deceive the eye. The 
clouds had partially cleared, and through the occasional breaks 
in the road-screen we could see that we were on a rolling plateau 
which resolved itself into a series of ridges directly ahead of us. 
The dull booming of guns which had been previously drowned 
by the storm, now became more distinct, and occasional flashes 
of lurid red or the glare of distant star-shells could be seen. As 
we advanced these warlike manifestations increased, and finally 
we reached a point where the glare of the flares lit up the scene 
with the intensity of lightning. 

Suddenly we struck a sharp curving descent of the road, and 
a moment later we were on the paved streets of a town. It was 
Badonviller, the deserted city that lay on the edge of No Man's 
Land. Here we we^e at the mOst dangerous point of our march, 
as the Germans shelled the place regularly each night to hamper 
any possible troop movements or the passage of ration and am- 
munition trains. Our machine-gun carts rattled loudly over the 
cobbles, and the sound of hoofs and the tramp of feet kept our 
hearts in our mouths. One mule burst into a shrill "Hee-Haw," 
and that started them all. We thought sure that it was our death 
warrant, but Jerry must have been drowsing for we were unmo- 
lested. Shortly after entering the town we turned sharply to the 
right down a street lined with ruined dwellings and public build- 
ings. Broken shutters banged in the wind, which whined dis- 
mally through empty rooms and deserted galleries of tottering 
structures. The gurgling of water from the fountain-head of a 
stone watering trough seemed a strange sound in w^hat might be 
termed a dead city. Again we turned to the right and shortly 
left the town, halting along a narrow road behind a densely 
wooded ridge. 

We unloaded the guns, tripods, and ammunition boxes, and 
each platoon was guided to positions and dugouts over the crest 
of the hill. Our officers established themselves in their quarters, 
— a small stone building, — and the relief was complete. We were 
now in the front line of the Baccarat Sector, and awaited the com- 
ing of the morning, still four hours away, to completely organize 
and make a reconnaissance of the situation. Our mules were 
taken back tojndian Village but the carts were put in shelters in 
the woods built for that purpose. 



59 






On the Front 

August 4:th- August S)th 

Our first bit of front line service lasted only five days, but 
was filled to the brim with a new brand of excitement and adven- 
ture. 

The first day, Sunday, August 4th, was spent in getting 
settled; setting up the kitchen, picking and organizing the gun 
positions and guard details, preparing a system of liasion, or 

communications between gun 
positions and platoon headquar- 
ters, platoon and company head- 
quarters, and company and bat- 
talion headquarters. This done, 
we settled into the routine of 
front line troops ; observing 
"Jerry's" movements, strength- 
ening our positions, standing 
guard against surprise by night 
raids or gas attacks, caring for 
our guns and equipment, and 
sending out reconnoitering par- 
ties at night to the Infantry Out- 
posts in No Man's Land. The 
main purpose of our presence 
here was to begin that *'season- 
insf" which is necessarv to the 



production of fighting troops, 
and we entered into the work 
with a will and a marvelous 
eagerness to learn. 

Our positions lay on a long, high ridge that was densely 
wooded and admirably adapted to concealment. The ridge over- 
looked a broad rolling valley or series of minor folds in the land 
in which were our infantry outposts and No Man's Land. On 




60 



the opposite side was another wooded ridge, lower than ours, on 
which were the German Hnes. Directly in front of our line the 
land was clear, affording an unbroken view of the valley and 
the far-ofif series of ridges behind the enemy's lines. Down the 
valley to the left the land was also free of forests. Here lay the 
deserted and ruined towns of Badonviller and Neuviller, the 
former just within our lines and the latter in the very middle of 
No Man's Land. The terrain up the valley on our right was very 
wild and unbroken, and covered with dense forests and under- 
growth s. 

Where this wooded portion began there was a spur of forest 
which was merely a maze of dead, stark, gray-colored trunks of 
trees, splintered an4 torn by months of shellfire, stripped naked of 
foliage, and killed by poisonous gas. An unused road followed 
the base of the ridge to an abandoned house and mill, ruined, and 
occupied only by rats and bats. 

Each gun position was provided with dugouts for the men, 
most of them situated just behind the crest, but two in par- 
ticular, those of the first platoon, located half-way down the 
face of the hill, and well camouflaged in the brush. Those dug- 
outs behind the 'crest were fairly dry and comfortable, but, due 
to the seepage of water, those on the hillside were scarcely hab- 
itable. However, the men had to make the best of the matter, 
and improved them as much as possible. As is usual, the bunks 
for sleeping were built in tiers, and constructed of boards and 
wire netting or woven steel wire. To make them more comfort- 
able they were filled with straw which was damp, dirty and in a 
musty condition when we arrived. We found that a bed of pine 
twigs made a much better and sweeter smelling bed. Further- 
more, and most important of all, the odor of the pine seemed to 
drive away those pests, the cooties and straw fleas, although to 
be true it did not eliminate them entirely. 

The company was in charge of Lieutenant Merriman in the 
absence of the Captain. We also had with us Lieutenants 
Tilden, Fri and Smith, the first two in charge of the gun platoons 
and the latter in charge of the train, which was at Indian Village. 
Company headquarters was established in a small, stone build- 
ing near the base of the ridge. It was very small, and judging 
from its facings of glazed tile, had been at one time a wayside 
chapel. A few days after our arrival Lieutenant Merriman 
moved his headquarters to the village of Pexonne, where bat- 
talion headquarters were situated. We suspect that he was 
forced to do so because of orders from "higher up," as "Merry" 

61 



always liked to be right among the men. Lieutenants Tilden 
and Fri, however, continued to occupy those quarters. 

The kitchen and Headquarter's Platoon Runners' shacks 
were about fifty yards up the road on the edge of the woods, 
where the smoke from the fire would disperse itself among the 
trees. Food was carried to the men in tin buckets by details 
from each squad. 



62 





oNviyti<: 

This weird, dead town — the Deserted City, we named it — 
lay only a short distance from our positions. In size it was not 
large, having formerly held probably two thousand five hundred 
inhabitants, but it was nevertheless a lasting monument to the 
destructiveness and wanton spirit of the Huns. It was the first 
scene of wholesale devastation we had seen, — an earthquake 
could not have wrought more complete ruin ! Not a single 
building, not a single home had escaped ; those that were not 
stricken by shellfire or aerial bombs had been deliberately dyna- 
mited. The interior of the great cathedral had been thoroughly 
mutilated and the great roof had tumbled into it. Only the 
high, round, stone tower and the walls remained standing, and 
even the tower was in constant danger of crashing to earth, as a 
big shell had carried away a portion of the base. 

It was evident that the people had evacuated the town in a 
frenzy of haste, snatching only a few necessary articles of food 
and wearing apparel and small valuables, for every house con- 
tained nearly complete furnishings, things of great value, such 
as mahogany tables, chairs, bedsteads, huge mirrors, brass chan- 
deliers, clothing of every description, books, stoves, tapestries, — 
in fact, every conceivable household article could be found. A 
great deal of these things had been hacked, or broken, or carried 
off, or marred by exposure to the weather. In spite of the fact 
that the town Avas being shelled intermittently by the Germans, 
French civilians came there often with wheelbarrows or little 
carts and took away furniture and clothing in small quantities. 
It was there for anyone to take who cared to make the effort, 
and naught but rats and stray cats to protest. The stores, of 
course, had been long since stripped of any articles of food, but 
in the several druggists' and chemists' shops there Avere shelves 
and drawers full of medicines, drugs and chemicals of every 
description. 

Even on the brightest and most sunny days the town was 
"spooky," and at night the stoutest heart would flutter appre- 
hensively at the banging of shutters in the breeze, the flapping 

63 



of curtains, the scurry of rats, or the slinking forms of lean and 
hungry cats skulking in and out among the ruins. It was a com- 
mon belief that German snipers visited the place nocturnally, 
and several infantry runners going through with messages assert- 
ed that they had been shot at. However, this is a matter for 
debate, — it was easily possible, but not probable. 



Front-Line-"Fromage" 

Rookie Raines was on guard one night at Gun A-1. It was 
pouring rain and Rookie was very much disgusted. Going back 
to a bench about five yards to the rear of his gun he saw two 
men sitting there and unsuspectingly remarked, "I wish to God 
Tilden had to sit out here for three hours !" The pair on the 
bench proved to be Lieutenant Tilden and the platoon sergeant. 
Rookie double-timed back to his gun ! 



According to Corporal Harmon this is what little Bill Eddy 
wrote to his girl to give her a small idea of the little aggrava- 
tions a soldier has to endure on the front : 

''Dearest Girlie : 

'T will now try to write a few lines to you if them German 
guns will keep their shells off this dugout, but they have been 
lighting around here all around me and I will tell you they get my 
goat, but not as much as yesterday, when I was out on No Man's 
Land gathering flowers to send to you. I am sorry to tell you 
that after all my trouble and danger some other guy stole them 
so I will not be able to send them now. Our homes they are 
dugouts, which are holes so deep that the rats in them have never 
seen daylight. I'd hate to be found dead in one of them, but a 
man has to get used to great danger when he is a soldier. And 
while I'm speaking of rats they are very good friends to us in a 
way and in a way they ain't, because they keep us awake at 
night so the Jerries can't get us. I don't want the Jerries to get 
me, for I have seen some of them and they look mean, but, take 
it in the other hand, sweetheart, I would like to get some sleep. 
Last night I went to bed with my shoes on as you see we are 
not allowed to sleep on the front line without them on, but them 
rats don't know the arn\y rules and I suppose they thought I had 
been tanked up on this French wine and forgot to take them off, 
so they all got busy to remove my shoes for me, but they made a 
bad mistake and began to chew into my toes. Maybe they 
thought it was a slab of this here French cheese they was after. 
But I woke up in time to save the rest of the squad from sore 
feet and no hob-nail shoes. Now I must stop, sweetness, as I 

64 



have to figure out how to stop those rats from eating any more 
shoes, as the supply sergeant won't give me any more. I guess 
I will wash my feet. I will write again when I have some more 
experiences and I got a hunch they will be many and hair-raising, 
as this is an exciting and dangerous life. 

''Your soldier, 

"BILL." 



Private Floyd Chandler slips us this one: 

On the night of August 4th it fell on the Third Platoon 
mule leaders to take the ammunition up to the front. We were 
*'green," of course, at that stage of the game, and having heard 
so much we were naturally leery of the Germans. After a long 
hike we arrived at about midnight, and Lieutenant Roger A. 
Smith, who was in charge, decided to take a short cut back to 
Indian Village. It was as dark as pitch in those woods and you 
couldn't see the cart in front of you. We lost our bearings and 
were feeling our way along a narrow road when somebody 
shouted a command we couldn't understand and several dusky 
forms leaped up and stuck bayonets in Lieutenant Smith's face. 
We all thought we had wandered over into German territory 
and, though we had no pistols, made up our minds to fight our 
way out or die. However' we didn't have to do either one of 
those things, for they turned out to be French artillery guards. 
They had gas masks on, but we couldn't understand their jabber- 
ing, so Lieutenant Smith ordered us to put ours on, too, saying 
that he supposed they could smell gas better than he could. 
They made him go down in a dugout and asked him all sorts of 
questions, none of which he could understand ; so they gave it 
up as a bad job and let us go on our way. Lieutenant Smith 
decided to wait until daybreak to find the way back, and it was 
about 6:30 next morning when we reached Indian Village, a tired 
and sleepy bunch. 



Corporal Shutt and his dog-robber, Bill Eddy, needed some 
furniture for their dugout, says Pete Clemons. They fared forth 
into Badonviller in search of it, and while they were broAvsing 
through the houses they met a couple of mademoiselles who w^ere 
salvaging some vegetables in an abandoned garden. The boys 
fooled around quite a while trying to converse with them, but 
it was no go. Now Paul Shutt had sworn he would never touch 
a drop of wine or liquor in France, and so, when the girls oflfered 
him and Bill some wine out of the jug they had with them he 
refused, but Bill decided it was too good a chance to pass up and 
guzzled some down. Shutt says they insisted that he take some, 

65 



"so to satisfy them I put the jug to my lips, but didn't drink a 
drop." It's all right to say so, but durned if we can see how even 
the tee-totalin' Corporal Shutt could keep from licking his lips ! 



It was raining and extremely dark the night of August 8th. 
The second platoon, under Lieutenant Fri, had very shaky posi- 
tions. It would mean disaster to show the faintest gleam of 
light, so at night they had a hard time. At about 10:00 P. M. 
the Lieutenant wandered down to one of the gun positions. The 
password for the night was "Nice." He got within challenging 
distance and the sturdy guard bawled out "Halt!" in such a 
wicked tone that he nearly collapsed. To the guard's surprise 
he started spilling out the password before it was asked, and 
garbled it, comme ca, "Nice ! Nice ! Niece ! Niece ! — er, Nice ! 
Nice!" 

Speaking for the gang, Clinton Felkey says that what they 
would like w^ould be the pleasure of meeting that nice niece of 
Lieutenant Fri's. 



Del Artis says there is just one real selfish man in the rough- 
neck mule-leading gang and that man is Private Kanyuh. "He 
wouldn't steal candy from a baby or rob the dead," says Del, 
"but he has been known to take another man's gas mask off his 
face during a gas attack. We were often disturbed in the night 
at Indian Village by gas alarms. One night we were aroused 
by the piercing sound of the sirens and, as usual. Kanyuh didn't 
know where his gas mask was. He became frantic and raved 
and howled, mumbled and babbled, sighed and moaned, "Where 
is my mask? Where is my mask? My God, bovs, where is it? 
Oh, oh, what'll I do! What'll I do!" No one had time to tell 
him, — we were getting ours on "tout-suite." All of a sudden he 
let out a whoop of despair and jumped on poor little Bates and 
tore his mask off. Bates, however, beat him off and got his mask 
back on. When it was all over and had turned out to be a false 
alarm, Kanyuh was sore because we laughed at him !" 



Do you remember that we entered the front lines without 
even a pistol to protect ourselves with? Wonder if they expected 
us to throw the ammunition in our belts at the Huns? We 
finally got good old Springfield rifles. Weren't they welcome, 
though ? 



On the night of August 7th, while everything was peaceful 
and quiet on the Badonviller front, a shot snapped the stillness 



66 



near Gun Position No. 5. The dugout gas guard awakened the 
gun crew, who hurried to the scene of action armed with bolos, 
old bayonets and rifles. The gun guards, Clinton Felkey and 
"Stand to" Roush, told Corporal Cater that they had fired at 
something moving among the wire entanglements out in front 
of the gun position. A patrol was formed at once, consisting of 
Bill Eddy, Dick Dawson, Del Artis, Bill Blakeman and Vic Earl, 
in charge of Harry Cater. They formed in skirmish line and 
crawled out among the wire tangles and brush, but could dis- 
cover no traces of the intruder. By that time Lieutenant Fri 
was on the job, and all of the men remained on guard until morn- 
ing, half froze by the chill night air. Daylight showed only a 
break in the camouflage of the old gun position. 

—ETHAN R. FRY. 



Do you remember that it was plum season when we were 
at the front and the "boo-coo" plum trees in Badonviller? 



Runner Stewart of Headquarters Platoon was the carrier of 
the first message from the front to Pexonne. He had to go 
through Badonviller, both going and coming, without even a bolo 
to protect himself with. Felt kinda shaky, didn't you, Stew? 



One day Private Seaman was sent by command, 
To pick blackberries in No Man's Land. 
That he hated this order we wouldn't doubt, 
But nevertheless he carried it out. 
But when he returned, — Ah, me ! Ah, my ! 
We heard Lieutenant Tilden sigh, 
''How comes it, Seaman, that the berries are crushed? 
Full of leaves and also dust?" 
Then Seaman beat a safe retreat 
And answered back, "Revenge is sweet !" 

—CARL MUNSON. 



(!J 



Hike from the Front to Clairupt 

August 10 th 

Our first hitch in the front line was over at midnight Friday, 
August 9th. We were relieved by Company "A" of the .135th 
Machine Gun Battalion, and at 1 :30 A. M. formed on the dark 
road behind the ridge. The enemy had been dropping shells 
into Badonviller at varied intervals throughout the evening, and 
our officers decided that it would be best to take the road through 
the forest, as the Germans might have gained information of the 
relief and be "laying" for us. This cost us considerably more 
time and effort, as the forest depths we penetrated were dark 
with a dense blackness that defies description. Our route 
circled back into the village of Pexonne and thence over the 
plateau to Neufmaisons and Indian Village. Had it not been 
for a lack of knowledge of the roads we might have reached 
Indian Village two hours sooner and saved over six kilometers 
of marching. It was unnecessary to enter Pexonne ; we should 
have gone directly through the woods to Neufmaisons. To make 
matters worse. Lieutenant Merriman, being a long-legged man, 
led us a furious pace. 

We reached Indian Village at 4:30 A. M. and were met by 
Lieutenant Fri, who led us over a muddy trail among the shacks 
to an old animal shelter, where we thankfully flopped down to 
snatch a little sleep. It seemd that we followed him fully a mile 
and next day we were surprised to find ourselves within a hundred 
yards of the entrance to the camp. 

Most of us slept late in spite of our bad-smelling, uncom- 
fortable billet. After a good cooked meal at noon the company 
went through the delouser. All our clothing and blankets were 
put into large tanks under high pressure live steam. Mean- 
while we enjoyed the luxury of a hot shower bath, our first hot 
bath since we left Camp Lee. The showers were mere single, 
thin streams of water, but soldiers cannot be choosers ! In the 
afternoon we turned in our rifles and the belated issue of "forty- 
fives" was made, — at that there were not enough to fully equip 
the company. 

When dusk came we again took the road, and after an easy 
two-hour hike reached our rest billets at the village of Clairupt, 
near Bertrichamps. Here we had a plentiful meal with "beau- 
coup" hot coffee, and then went to bed. 

68 



M 6b^JR»Pllf? 



August lOth-August 19th 

Clairupt is a very small village that may be termed a suburb 
of the larger town of Bertrichamps, only a few hundred yards 
distant. It is a mere string of houses built along' a single wind- 
ing street that branches at right angles from the Bertrichamps- 
Raon-le-Etape road. The buildings are of the usual white- 
washed stone, red-tile roofed type, and of course our billets were 
in the lofts. Raon-le-Etape, a large town having many stores 
and wineshops, is only two kilometers up the main road to the 
south. Stores and wineshops are the only necessary requisites 
for a dough-boy's paradise when he has just come from the front. 
No Q. M. C. or M. P. could appreciate his large cities more. 

Our kitchen was set up beneath a large canvas stretched 
under the wide-spreading branches of an oak that stood at the 
roadside near the entrance to the village. Company Headquar- 
ters and the officers' billets were in the house at the corner of 
the main road. The mules and carts were quartered in the woods 
at the far end of town. 

The country surrounding Clairupt is unusually beautiful 
and picturesque. The village nestles close to the rolling foot- 
hills of a fairly high ridge, which is heavily wooded with pine 
and evergreen. Between it and the opposite ridge, three miles 
distant, is a broad verdant valley, well watered by the little 
Meurthe River. The streams termed rivers in France would be 
called creeks in America. Almost the entire valley is devoted 
to lush, damp pastures, which are criss-crossed by little ditches 
of clear running water. The Raon road, a broad, crushed stone 
highway, bordered by tall poplars, huge oaks and elms, curves 
along the eastern side of the valley like a white ribbon through 
the green. Far off, near the crest of the opposite ridge, is an old 
fashioned white stone chateau, perched like an ancient castle on 
the steep mountain side, half-hidden by the tall trees. Further 
down the valley, barely visible among the western foot-hills, can be 
seen the tall church spire and bright tile roofs of another town. 

We spent the time we were at Clairupt on ''reserve" at light 
drilling, — calisthenics, elementary machine gun drill, signal work, 

69 



and range work with pistols and guns. The First Platoon, 
under Lieutenant Tilden, were on detached service at St. Barbe, 
a small town about seven kilometers from the city of Baccarat. 
They were detailed to do guard and police duty at the 37th Divi- 
sion school established there. 



Clairupt Notes and Tales 

On Tuesday, August 13th, we went to the machine gun range 
where we had both machine gun and pistol practice. Captain Wedow, 
Sergeant Stimmel, and Sergeant Chapman returned to the company 
that day. We'll never forget how funny Chappie looked in campaign 
hat and canvas leggings. 



At last! — We were issued one sack of "Bull" apiece at sup- 
per, the night we reached Clairupt. 



During the lecture and demonstration of the use of hand 
grenades, Captain Wedow told us a little story of a raid that the 
Amexes pulled on the Boche in a certain sector. The British 
and French had been holding the line at this point for many 
months, during which time they had, of course, attempted raids 
on the enemy. These raids never bore fruit as the Germans 
knew their foe's methods so well that they were always able to 
frustrate them. When the Americans relieved the French they 
made a raid the first night they were there. However, instead 
of going over armed to the teeth with pistols, grenades and trench 
knives, they carried only flashlights and clubs wrapped at the 
business-end with barbed wire ! The enemy was so surprised by 
such tactics that the raid was a great success. 



On Thursday, the 15th, we spent the afternoon in the pas- 
tures along the Meurthe River, practicing with live offensive 
and defensive hand grenades. We had a great time — lots of 
noise ! 



Hear Ye ! Hear Ye ! On Friday, August 16th, the penniless 
Machine Gun Company drew their first pay in France. Boo- 
coo-Koo-Koos that night coming in at all hours from Raon-le- 
Etape ! 



Lieutenant Smith, Sergeant Richner, the meat-hound, and 
Corporal Vic Norris left for school at Chatillon-sur-Seine on 
Saturday, August 17th. 

70 



Ben Shiffman, who can ''compree" and "parley" like an in- 
terpreter, got into the back room of a wineshop by mistake and 
surprised a fair mademoiselle. She exclaimed in French : 

"Oh, M'sieu! You won't hurt me, will you?" 

Ben studied for a moment. 

"No, — not much." 



Remember the infernal straw fleas in those old billets? 
Most of us carry the marks of their bites to this day. 



One night Vujich woke the Headquarters Platoon billet 
with a series of wild howls. We thought he had the delirium 
tremens, but it turned out that a wasp had dropped from the 
nest above him and tried to crawl into bed with him. 

"Wassup kick me in the neck !" explained Vujich. 



St. Barbe, France, August 18th, 1918. 

On this day and date Privates Benjamin Wilson and 
Carl Karasek did willfully, wantonly and maliciously appro- 
priate several cans of jam while they were supposed to be 
guarding the kitchen. Extra duty ! 



Elva Miller says : "We are all familiar with Reveille, but 
only the mule-leaders and Two Gun Slim Sylvia know what 
"Revovo" means. At Clairupt we were too far from the rest of 
the company to hear the bugle and it fell to the lot of Slim to 
wake the mule-leaders for stable call. SHm always had plenty 
of ammunition and he used it freely. He shot the tops out of all 
our tents blowing that Revolvo Gun, as he called it. If the 
Skipper heard shots and wondered where they came from maybe 
this will enlighten him. 



Private John Kanyuh comes across with this one : 
"This happened on August 16th, when we were at Clairupt. 
All of us mule-leaders were in our little tents, playing cards. 
Mechanic Dainus came around and told us he knew where there 
was a bees' nest, so we all quit playing and thought we would 
go and try to get some honey. There were Butler, Covert, Ber- 
lett, Dainus, and myself. 

"Well, I thought I would try and get the honey, so I put on 
my gas mask, pulled my cap over my ears, wrapped a towel 
around my neck, and put on a long pair of gloves. The bees 

71 



were in the ground and they had a Uttle hole for the door. So 
one of the fellows gave me a shovel and I started to pound on 
the ground. I was pounding only a few moments when all the 
bees started coming out. I did not mind that, but when I got 
stung a few times I threw the shovel away, pulled off my mask, 
and took to my heels through the woods, all the rest of the fel- 
lows tearing along ahead of me. 

'*Then we decided to try it again, and this time Covert put on 
the mask and pounded with the shovel. All of a sudden all the 
bees came out and he was stung a dozen times before he knew it. 
He threw the shovel away and started to run toward us with the 
bees after him. We beat it and he flopped down on the grass 
and started rolling and knocking the bees off himself while the 
rest of us damn near died laughing. But when we got through 
someone asked us what we were trying to get honey from a yel- 
low-jackets' nest for, and the whole company laughed at us." 



72 




7"5^ ZT 



wm^. 



August I9th-August 29th 

Leaving Clairupt at 3 :00 o'clock in the afternoon, we hiked 
through Bertrichamps and turned into the mountains over the 
same route we had taken to the front two weeks before. This 
time, however, we skirted the right of Indian Village and traveled 
a newly filled gravel road through the woods. After toiling for 
a few kilometers over this difficult and hilly road we began to 
feel the need of a rest, which was apparently not forthcoming. 
However, one of the mules came to our rescue and eloquently 
protested by laying down in harness. Then we were given per- 
mission to fall out and rest. 

When we arrived at Ker-Ar-Vor, the second line of de- 
fense, immediately behind our previous front line positions, it 
was 8:30 P. M., — a clear moonlit night. Our positions proved 
to be miles apart as we were to hold a line approximately six 
kilometers from flank to flank. Company Headquarters was at 
Ker-Ar-Vor cantonment. The Third Platoon's positions were 
back of the village of Pexonne, three kilometers to the left; the 
Second Platoon's positions extended from the graveyard at Pex- 
onne to a point directly behind Badonviller; the First Platoon's 
positions covered a front of three kilometers to the right of 
Badonviller and also our right flank. This platoon, however, did 
not get in from St. Barbe until the next day and therefore 
the relief of only two platoons of Company "B" of the 135th 
Machine Gun Battalion could be made that night. A Head- 
quarters Platoon runner was detailed with each platoon to learn 
the routes from company headquarters to the new positions, to 
which we were guided by runners of Company "B." By 11:00 
P. M. the relief of the two platoons was completed, the balance 
to be made by the First Platoon on the morrow. Ker-Ar-Vor 
was at the center of the line we were holding. At a point a 
few hundred yards north of company headquarters there was 
the junction of three roads. One led toward Badonviller, a sec- 
ond curved eastward through the woods to the First Platoon 
positions at the right flank of the sector, the third wound down 
through the valley to Pexonne, three kilometers to the west. 

73 



The Second Platoon positions were strung along before this 
highway from the junction to the Pexonne graveyard. The 
Third Platoon positions lay in a semi-circle that crossed the 
Neufmaisons road about one kilometer behind Pexonne. 

Compared with other sectors of the Western Front the 
Baccarat sector was very quiet. Activities here were confined 
to raids and patrols, desultory shelling, and aerial bombing raids. 
The latter was the Germans' most frequent method of harass- 
ing, but seldom met with success as there were always allied 
planes on the alert to give battle. Our principal business in this 
sector was to hold the line and to learn our trade of fighting. 
It was of the nature of a school, with the spice of actual warfare 
to make it interesting. 




While we were at Ker-Ar-Vor we had only two meals a day, 
as the food had to be carried in buckets to the men at the gun 
positions over miles of rough trails through the woods. Then 
when they finally did get it the stufif was always cold, — very 
pleasant ! 



Did you happen to be around the evening the two Y. M. C. 
A. girls called on us? Even old Sarge Byram frisked and 
cavorted ! 

74 



Ask the Headquarters runners how pleasant it is to chase 
out in the middle of a rainy night and carry a lot of mule harness 
a couple of miles, — about as pleasant as standing guard at a gun 
position ! 



Tuesday, August 27th, the Skipper informed Sergeant Byram 
that Headquarters Platoon runners were there for whatever work 
was to be done around the kitchen. 

. "All right, boys, dig a garbage-hole !" 



Wednesday, the 28th, Vic Norris returned from gas-school 
and became our senior gas-sniffer. 



"Here, you runners, carry more water for the kitchen !" 

On the Front Line 

August 29th-Septemher 14tJi 

The move from Ker-Ar-Vor to the front line was only a 
matter of two or three miles of marching and, it being our second 
trip up, was mere routine. We knew exactly what to expect and 
nothing out of the ordinary occurred. We were not even sur- 
prised at the rain that was falling, — it was usually our luck to 
have bad weather on a move. The First and Second Platoons 
took up their former positions to the right of Badonviller ; the 
Third Platoon, under Lieutenant Shultz, occupied flank positions 
in the woods between Pexonne and the left of Badonviller; 
Company Headquarters and Headquarters Runners were in Pex- 
onne. As before, the kitchen was in the woods behind the ridge 
on which most of the gun positions lay. Cooks Henry Mooren 
and Luce were with the Headquarters Platoon at Pexonne, cook- 
ing also for the Third Platoon. 

We were in the front line this time for such an unusual period 
that it will be possible to record only the "high-spots" of our 
experiences. A detailed description of Badonviller and the line 
will be unnecessary, as that has already been dealt with in the 
account of our first trip "up." 



75 



Although to the eye the size of this town was deceiving, 
making it appear small, it was in reality almost as large as 
Badonviller. It was situated on the Neufmaisons-Badonviller 
road, about two kilometers from the front line. All French vil- 
lages in the Vosges seem to be built along similar lines, and 
Pexonne was no exception. The houses were of the usual type ; 
white-washed stone ; and the main portion of the town was built 
along the principal highway, which wound in a general northerly 
direction toward Badonviller. There were two other streets of 
importance; one leading southeast and merging at the edge of 
the village with the Ker-Ar-Vor road, the other connecting in 
the southeast with the road to Vacqueville. A single-track rail- 
road skirted the western side of the town near the ruined pot- 
teries and ran on toward Badonviller. It had long been out of 
use and the station had been partially destroyed by shell-fire. In 
the center of the town on the main street stood the church. Its 
tower and spire were untouched, but one corner of the building 
had been struck by a shell and most of the stained windows had 
been shattered by concussion. Unlike the usual churches in 
small towns, this one was not surrounded by a graveyard. The 
Pexonne graveyard lay outside the town on the eastern side, and 
is of interest to us because one of our gun positions had been 
there when we were in the Ker-Ar-Vor second line. The gun 
crew had lived in a corrugated iron shelter that had been built 
within a corner of the wall. 

Battalion Headquarters was established in a large abandoned 
stone residence near the northern end of town. Captain Wedow's 
office and sleeping quarters were in this building. Headquarters 
Platoon Runners were billeted in one of the old houses near the 
church, the rear door of which looked out upon the ruined pot- 
teries which the Germans habitually shelled. In one of the 
buildings in the central part of the village the Y. M. C. A. had 
established a canteen, and we wish to say that it was one of the 
best Y. M. C. A.'s we ever had with us. Our hats are off to the 
"Y" man of Pexonne. 

There were a few civilians in Pexonne ; old men and women 
who braved the chance of death by shell-fire to care for the few 

76 



little gardens and orchards around the town. Most of the houses 
were tenantless and partially destroyed. Although there was 
not nearly so much ''junk" in them as in those at Badonviller, 
it was a favorite amusement of the Runners to browse around 
the old structures during spare moments. The old potteries 
were also a favorite spot. Desultory shelling of the town and 
potteries only added spice to our little adventures. We had not 
vet learned to fear shell-fire. 



Who? Who? 

Private Zack was guarding the gun 
At Badonviller one dark black night. 
He thought he heard a prowling Hun 
Approaching his post in search of a fight. 

Roney and Knight and Private 'Tap" 
Had to their dugout just retired. 
They wanted to take a little nap 
And get the rest that they required. 

Private Zack rushed into their den, 
Roney and "Pap" grabbed forty-fives. 
"Sergeant," cried Zack, "Gimme ten good men. 
There's Huns up there and they want our lives !" 

"Lives — Hell — Go back to your guard; 
The only Huns you've ever seen 
Were on some picture postal card 
Or in a Y. M. C. A. magazine!" 

But Zack was scared ; through the door he leapt — 
Made a bee-line for the big dugout, 
The one where the rest of the gun crew slept 
Peacefully snoring. He routed them out. 

They grumbled and grunted, but mounted the path, 
To run down the Huns that he had heard. 
For one solid hour they searched in wrath, 
But all they could find was a great big bird. 

'Twas only an owl up in a tree, 

Whose "Hoo ! Hoo !" had frightened Zack, the guard. 

They cussed him and swore that he would be, 

If again he aroused them, treated hard ! ! 

77 



Raus Mit Him! 

(Apologies to Someone.) 

Though the Kaiser's short on rations 
And his army on the bum, 
In the final clash of Nations 
The WURST is yet to come ! 



Runners Rats Waters and Ray Johnson were routed out of 
their snug bunks early one morning and ordered to make a trip 
up to the kitchen at the front for rations. Coming back, loaded 
down with ''eats" for the gang, they stopped in Badonviller to 
rest. Rats took a chew of tobacco. 

"Johnson," he remarked ; ''this is a Helluva note !" 

"Oui ! Too much like work !" 

So they snooped around until they found an old baby-cart, 
and went merrily on their way. 



Two Headquarters Runners had to take the password for 
the night to Lieutenant Shultz of the Third Platoon. It was a 
ticklish job as the infantry guards had a nasty habit of shooting 
first and challenging afterward. To safeguard their hides the 
boys whistled "Over There," "Ohio," "The Infantry" and 
"America, Here's My Boy." 

"Damn near ran out of tunes before we got there," says one 
of them, "and my partner started to whistle the 'Wacht am 
Rhine' by mistake !" 



Pay-day again, Tuesday, September 10th. Oui, Oui! C'est 
tres bien ! 



Early on the morning of Wednesday, the 11th, our French 
artillery, which had moved up during the night, put over a 
forty-minute barrage ; we put over a machine gun barrage, — and 
the infantry Avent over the top in their first big raid. It\vas the 
first concentration of artillery fire we had ever heard. The in- 
fantry penetrated the enemy's third line, but the Germans had 
fled and only two prisoners were taken. One was mortally 
wounded and died before he was brought within our lines. They 
laid him in the first aid station at Pexonne. and all day the place 
was besieged by American soldiers, curious to see their first 
dead German. He was a huge, broad-shouldered, deep-chested 
Prussian Guard, and though we shed no crocodile tears over him, 

78 



most of us will admit that we at least felt sorry for the wife and 
children he had probably left behind him to fight for the autocracy 
which brought on the world's greatest and bloodiest war. 



On Observation Post 

Perhaps one of the softest and most interesting duties that 
we had to perform on the Badonviller front was Observation 
Guard. The man on duty sat on a little bench under an elephant- 
iron shelter, well camouflaged among the bushes of the steep 
hillside. Before him was a wonderful and beautiful panorama 
Glancing to the left he could see the ruined walls, shattered red 
roofs, and tottering cathedral tower of the Deserted City, Badon- 
viller. Far beyond, down the valley, a narrow white road wound 
up a distant hill into the German lines. To the left front, entirely 
surrounded by No Man's Land, lay the village of Neuviller, the 
scene of nightly hand-to-hand encounters between Germans and 
American patrols. Directly across the valley on the opposite 
ridge was the edge of the woods that marked the German line, 
and beyond was a series of green ridges, each rising higher 
behind the other until they faded into the misty horizon. At 
the foot of the hill on which the observation post was situated, 
there was a ramshackle old mill and pond, and a narrow road 
that followed the base of the ridge. Further ahead, the old 
shell-torn, gas-stricken bit of woods projected into No Man's 
Land from the forest of the upper valley. No Man's Land itself, 
was a grassy, rolling basin, cut up by old trenches, barbed wire 
entanglements, and shell-craters. 

The observation guard's duty was to jot down in a notebook 
all activities of the enemy that he could see, such as shelling, 
air activities, machine gun and rifle fire, and movements on the 
roads of the enemy's rear. PTe noted the time of each occurrence 
and a report was sent daily to the division intelligence depart- 
ment. 

On one day in particular, the guard had a great deal to 
report. Early that morning Lieutenant Tilden had taken the 
First Platoon guns out into No Man's Land and swept the Ger- 
man front with concentrated machine gun fire, retiring to the 
cover of our ridge before daybreak. This was not the first time 
we had harassed Terry in that manner, but this time we "got his 
goat," At daybreak he sent up seven observation balloons — 
sausages — to try to locate us. They were strung out in a long 
line, a mile or two behind his front. A few of his planes came 
over and soared back and forth high above No Man's Land until 
chased back by our anti-aircraft guns or our planes. Now and 

79 



then he threw over a few shells, apparently at random, in hope 
of hitting something. One could hear their shrill whine, see the 
cloud of smoke and shower of earth as they ploughed into the 
ground at the base of the ridge, and a second later hear the 
crashing explosion. They always fell short of our positions and 
did no damage. About once every half hour a squadron of our 
planes would cross the lines and one by one the sausages would 
duck down, while Jerry's anti-aircraft guns got busy, flecking 
the sky with puffs of black bursting shrapnel, and causing the 
valley to echo with their dull explosions. But Jerry was patient 
and persistent, and, no sooner than our planes left his lines, he 
sent up his balloons again. These tactics continued all day, but, 
it is safe to say, they availed him nothing. All he had succeeded 
in doing was to cause our observation guard a great deal of extra 
work and an unusual amount of "cussing." 



Once upon a midnight dreary, 

I walked post, — weak and weary. 

Came a sound quite queery, leery, 

Stealing over No Man's Land. 

I put my rifle to my shoulder. 

Rested it upon a boulder, 

And, my body growing colder, 

Waited for the wily Hun. 

My teeth a chattering sound were making, 

My nerves were all a-quaking, quaking, 

And my knees together shaking. 

In the darkness and the gloom. 

Then upon my ears came stealing 

The sound that set my heart a-reeling, 

A shrill and ghostly sort of squealing 

Issued from a dugout door. 

'Twas a screech-owl ! — Nothing more ! 

(Apologies to Poe.) 

—JOSEPH HERMAN. 



When our kitchen went into its old place in the woods, Ser- 
geant Byram found it wasn't such a safe place as he had formerly 
thought. The kitchen of the company we relieved had been 
struck by gas and H. E. shells and the surrounding woods torn 
up considerably. Therefore, this second time up to the front, 
he wasn't so prone to run around with lighted candles, much to 
the relief of the cooks. 

80 



''Old Dog" Mills seems to have it in for Mule-Leader Lyman 
Rood. He tells the following tale: On the night of September 
14th the First Platoon pulled a good hoax on Rood. Rood's 
squad knew he was coming up that night with his mule and cart 
to get the gun and equipment, as we were being relieved. They 
laid a deep plot. Rood being naturally a nervous man, his near- 
ness to Jerry did not alleviate his feeling any, and he was easy 
bait. Just as he pulled in near the line someone threw a grenade 
into a trench near him. Rood seemed petrified for a moment, and 
then someone sounded the gas-alarm. He came to with a jerk 
and had his mask on in a jifify, his knees knocking together. At 
the order ''Remove Mas^s," he hesitated and then took it off. 
A rat made a racket in a pile of old debris nearby, and Rood 
whipped out his Gat and began to fire frantically into the brush 
toward the German lines. Then he swore up and down that he 
was gassed in the eyes ! No one doubts Rood's courage, but he 
really was a funny greenhorn his first night in the trenches. 



Bugler Speary says : "One night on the Badonviller front 
we buglers and the cooks, having- played cards all evening, went 
to bed about 11 :30. Jerry had been dropping quite a lot of shells 
into our w^oods that night. Well, about 1 :00 A. M. I was 
awakened by someone groaning. It was Cook Luther, and he 
had the dyspepsia, and wanted me to go with him to the first aid 
station. We got up the road about a hundred yards when all 
of a sudden Jerry sent over a shell, — then another, and another. 

"Luther took a deep breath and says, 'Let's go back, Speary, 
I'm better now!' " 




81 



We Leave the Front 

September 14f/i 

We bade farewell to the Badonviller front at 9:00 o'clock 
the evening of Saturday, the 14th. We were relieved by French 
troops and, after considerable difficulty with them, due to lack 
of knowledge of their language, saw them well settled in the 
positions and then formed up on the Pexonne-Neufmaisons road. 
We were very much surprised when we failed to turn in at Indian 
Village. Most of us had thought we *were to spend the night 
there and push on the next day, but such was not the case. Then 
we drew the conclusion that we would halt at Clairupt, but 
instead we kept on and entered the great barrier of wild moun- 
tains, beyond which lay Rambervillers. We passed the cluster 
of houses near LaChapelle, where we had billeted overnight on 
our first trip to the front, and then lost all hope. Beyond that 
point the country for almost twenty kilometers was uninhabited. 
If we were to sleep that night it must be either in pup-tents in the 
mountains or in far distant St. Benoit, the first village on the other 
side of the hills. 

When we entered those rough highlands it was nearly mid- 
night and we were already approaching exhaustion. A weary 
march still lay before us. No words can adequately describe a 
soldier's feelings when every fibre of his being is crying for rest 
and sleep; when the dead weight of his pack is growing heavier 
at each step; when his head is whirling because of the strain in 
keeping to the dark, rough road. It would be folly to attempt 
such a description. Only a man who has endured it knows what 
it means, and even he, unless he be a wizard with words, cannot 
convey it to another who has never known the experience. When 
we came out of the hills it Avas 6:00 o'clock in the morning, and 
to our consternation we found that we were not to stop at St. 
Benoit! Where now? For two hours we dragged and straggled 
along the winding roads of the valley in such a blind stagger that 
we scarcely noticed the several towns through which we passed. 
Even the mules were beginning to fail ; their leaders, themselves 
worn out, had to literally drag and beat them onward. Our col- 
umn was frayed and broken, for we Avere now in such condition 
that only the very strongest could "hang on." No one deliber- 
ately fell out of ranks. Every man stuck to it to the limit of his 
ability, but many a man found it impossible to close up the 
slowly widening space between him and the man ahead. As a 
consequence, — the platoons half a mile apart, and each platoon 
stretched out over twice its usual road-space, — the company 
wound over the roads like a long disjointed caterpillar. 

82 



At last came the final halt anjl the Captain gave orders to 
remove packs and fall out. We were in the village of Housseras, 
seven kilometers southeast of Rambervillers. It was 9 -.00 o'clock 

before we finally got into our 
billets and, our forced march of 
forty-two kilometers over, we 
flopped down in the straw and 
feel asleep, too tired even to go 
to mess. 

Housseras 

As we stayed in Housseras 
only two days, scarcely long 
enough for us to recover from 
the effects of our long march, 
we found very little there to in- 
terest us. We were there all 
day Sunday, September 15th, 
and until Monday evening. 
Nor have we any very pleasant 
memories of the place. It was 
merely a gangling village, 
strung out in a rough semi-circle along the high-road to Ramber- 
villers. The billets were, as usual, in the lofts, and were so dirty 
and full of straw-fleas that most of us pitched pup-tents in disgust. 




Rambervillers 

September \6th-Septemher ISth 

We left Housseras on the evening of the 16th at about 8;00 
P. M., and hiked seven kilometers to the city of Rambervillers, 
where we went directly to the rail-head and pitched pup-tents for 
the night. Many of us merely spread our blankets in the shelter 
of a high hedge and slept in the open. 

In the morning we found that the whole regiment was con- 
centrated in the vicinity in various nooks and corners along the 
railroad. Of course, rumors of all kinds were afloat. Some said 
we were going to a rest camp, others insisted that our destina- 
tion was Italy, but the rumor that was strongest, and seemed 
most likely to be true, was that we were to hold a portion of the 
front around Verdun. 

While we were awaiting the arrival of our transportation, all 
of us who could get away from the clutches of sergeants and 
officers spent our time wandering about the town. We found it 



83 



to be another paradise like Raon-le-Etape, — full of all sorts of 
stores and wineshops. It was; to us, a large city, we having had 
access only to ''one-horse" villages for the past two months, with 
the exception of "Raon." A small stream ran through the center 
of the town between artificial walls, similar to a canal. Just off 
the main street along this stream, was a small square or park, 
enclosed by a low stone wall. Within were shade trees and 
benches, where both the civilian and military population gathered 
for a little recreation, much as we do in our city parks at home. 
This spot was also used as an encampment by both French and 
American soldiers on their way to and from the front. Around 
the outskirts of Rambervillers were quite a number of aeroplane 
sheds or hangars, it being the aviation center for the Baccarat 
Sector. 



''Private Seaman," asked the Captain, "why should a soldier 
be ready to die for his country?" 

"Sure, Captain," he said. "You're quite right. Whv should 
he?" 



Rambervillers to Tremont 

September ISth-September 19th 

Evidently it had been extremely difficult to procure cars, for 
when our section finally did arrive many of the men had to ride 
without shelter on the flat-cars that carried the kitchen, escort 
wagon, ration-cart, and water-cart. Part of the company was on 
the section that departed the day before; only Headquarters 
Platoon, the train, and a portion of another platoon left on this 
section. 

We pulled out about 4:00 P. M. on the road leading north- 
west to Gerbeviller. Continuing northwest, having stopped at 
Blainville while mess was served, we passed through Nancy at 
9:00 P. M. and turned in a general westerly direction toward 
Toul. Shortly after midnight it began to rain, and those unfortu- 
nates on flat-cars took refuge under the wagons, although, indeed, 
it availed them but little shelter from the driving rain. We had 
left Toul behind and our route now took us through Commercy, 
Lerouville, and Bar-le-Duc, to Revigny, a large rail-head. Here 
we detrained at 5 :30 A. M. It was still raining steadily and the 
task of unloading was made doubly difiicult. 

Dawn showed us a dreary sight of dripping wagons, horses, 
mules, men and equipment, muddy roads, and grey hills. The time 
that passed before we finally formed a column on the road seemed 

84 



interminable. We were all soaked and very much disgusted; a 
situation aggravated by standing around with packs on. To make 
matters worse, when we did start, each man was ordered to carry 
along a few sticks of firewood for the kitchen. However, most of 
that went into the ditches before we had gone a hundred yards, 
and so did not plague us long. 

After hiking for two hours, we halted along the roadside near 
a small village. Here we had a breakfast of coffee, cold beans, 
"monkey-meat," and hardtack, and then continued the march. 
We were going south and could not understand why we were 
going away from the front. It appeared that we must be going 
to rest-camp, although that seemed too good to be true. Evi- 
dently we were somewhere in the rear of a fairly active sector, 
for all the towns we passed through were full of Americans and 
the roads were busy with military traffic. The strange sight of 
not only one, but many dead horses, along the roadside, told us 
that we were near a lively front, and inquiry brought the informa- 
tion that these conditions had prevailed for the past week. We 
were told that the front was about fifty kilometers to the north 
and that American troops were being concentrated in great num- 
bers in this area. It was whispered that we were going away 
from the front only because all billets in the north were occupied. 
We were going with many other divisions into a great offensive 
around Verdun ! 

At about 1 :00 P. M. we reached our destination, the village 
of Tremont, to which the rest of the company had preceded us. 
One platoon, we found, was at the nearby town of Robert Es- 
pagne, on anti-aircraft service. That portion of our company in 
Tremont was billeted in wooden barracks near the far end of the 
village. Our kitchen was established in a house, where there had 
formerly been a French army "cuisine." It was not necessary to 
use our rolling kitchen, as the great round iron kettles had been 
left set up and ready for use by our French comrades. 

The rain continued almost without cessation all day and 
throughout the night ; the billets were leaky and a few of us got 
wet. This, however, did not prevent us from sleeping well, for we 
were very tired. When the dawn of September 20th broke over 
the hills it was misty and damp, but before noon the sun was 
shining fitfully. Soon afterward the sky cleared completely and 
the day was warm and pleasant. 

It had been rumored that we were to make a long journey 
on trucks, and we were told early that day to roll packs and be 
ready to move at 3 :00 P. M. Sure enough, in the afternoon the 
trucks began to arrive ; for a couple of hours a constant stream 
of them went by the billets and formed a train on the high-road 

85 



beyond the town. They were driven by Chinese chauffeurs in 
variegated uniforms of all the Allies. On later acquaintance we 
found that they could speak a little French. We could not under- 
stand how they had learned even so little of a language that 
"stumped" most of us. They were a motley bunch, indeed. It 
was 6:30 P. M. before the whole infantry battalion and our com- 
pany had been loaded on the trucks and we had started on our 
rumbling, bumping journey ; whither, no one knew. 

We had been on our way for two hours and a half when we 
passed through Bar-le-Duc. The truck-train was extremely slow 
moving, and many halts had been made. After we left Bar-le- 
Duc, however, we began to make great speed, for the roads were 
as wide and smooth as any boulevard, and the night was clear, 
with a bright moon. Most of the roads in France are wonderful 
specimens of highway engineering; one wonders how they con- 
tinue to stand up under the constant battering of military truck- 
traffic. 

Sixteen to eighteen men were packed into each truck, and for 
every man there was a blanket roll. Of course it was impossible 
for more than two or three to lie down; the rest had to sit on the 
wooden benches which ran the length of each side of the truck, 
and doze in cramped positions. To add to our discomfort, the 
weather turned colder and we shivered as the night air rushed 
past. A truck trip at the best is. a miserable affair! We traveled 
steadily until 10:30 the next morning, when we unloaded in a 
desolate rolling bit of country near a small village. It had again 
begun to rain slightly and we found the field in which we were 
ordered to pitch pup-tents to be wet and cold. *'C'est la guerre," 
however, — and we took the matter philosophically. A French- 
man, in charge o*f the train, told us we were about thirty kilo- 
meters from the front. That night we moved into billets in the 
dilapidated old village. Its name still remains unknown to us. 

We spent the next day, Sunday, in welcome rest, as we Avere 
not to leave until darkness came to shield our movements. Most 
of us slept late and spent the rest of the morning and the entire 
afternoon playing cards, shooting crap, or cooking in our mess- 
pans ; producing various conglomerations that would make the 
average civilian sick even to look at, but which tasted mighty 
good to us. Our principal ingredients of these stews were the 
immortal "Willie" or "Monkey-meat," and canned tomatoes. 
These were our first hot meals for about forty-eight hours. 

While we were at this place a few men remembered seeing a 
government commissary at a town about four kilometers back, when 
we passed through on the trucks. In hope of securing something 
to eat in the form of canned goods, and also some tobacco or cigar- 

86 



ettes, many of us hiked over the hills to this village. To our great 
surprise and indignation the lieutenant in charge refused to sell to 
us, even though we explained the situation in full to him, telling him 
that we wanted the tobacco, especially, very badly. He was ob- 
durate, and refused to sell us a single thing on the grounds that we 
were not men of the Third Army Corps. To add to our anger and 
disappointment it began to rain, and cussing him roundly most of 
us started back to our quarters. A few, however, whose indigna- 
tion was exceedingly great, and whose need of tobacco spurred 
them to another effort, remained behind and held a council. They 
concluded that the reason they had been recognized as not belonging 
to organizations quartered in that town, was obviously the fact that 
they wore gas-masks, helmets, and side-arms. Acting accordingly, 
they took these things off and left one man to guard them. The 
ruse worked beautifully, and the Q. M. officer never even batted 
an eye as they ordered and paid for their purchases. Loaded down 
with canned goods and tobacco they went on their way rejoicing. 

At 8:00 P. M. the company formed up and started on the night- 
hike which was to end — we knew not where ! As time slipped by. 
It grew extremely dark, and threatened rain. The roads were slimy 
with the accumulation of mud from the past week, and marching was 
very difficult. We had been on the way about two hours when a 
heavy rainstorm broke suddenly upon us. Before we could unsling 
packs and get into our slickers we were soaked. The average army"^ 
issue slicker leaks like a sieve and is more like a wet blanket than 
a protection against the weather, so we were in bad shape. The rain 
continued and the roads became rivers of gray mud. 

It was nearly twelve o'clock when we descended into the deep 
valley in which lies the badly battered town of Recicourt. The rain 
had ceased temporarily, and we halted near a watering-trough to 
fill our canteens. We concluded that we were to be billeted in the 
village, but were soon disillusioned. The march was again taken 
up, and passing through the town, we toiled up the opposite steep 
hills. At a point about two kilometers bevond Recicourt, we halted 
in a dense woods. We could see the dim outlines of long wooden 
sheds, apparently stables for animals, among the trees near the road- 
side. Again It began to rain, this time a steady drizzle. Wq waited 
for ten or fifteen minutes and then were ordered to find shelter 
under any of the stables, for stables they proved to be. We found 
them full of chests and all kinds of debris among which we stumbled 
around in the gloom until each had found room to lie down. By 
huddling together in pairs and lying, front to back, on our sides, 
with our overcoats and slickers to cover us, we managed to snatch 
a bit of sleep. Then in the morning we were moved to dry dugouts, 
which we should have had the night before, but did not get until 

87 



now for reasons unknown. Our kitchen had not arrived, but one 
of the cooks undertook to prepare a meal in an old French kitchen 
and at noon we were given hot coffee, hot ''bully," syrup, and bread. 
It sure seemed good. 



In the Dug-Outs near Recicourt 

September 2^rd-2^th 

The dugouts which we occupied as reserve troops in the Avo- 
court Sector were undoubtedly the best we had ever been in. The 
road to Recicourt ran along the base of a low ridge, and our dug- 
outs were burrowed into the side of it. They were walled and roofed 
with "elephant iron," supported by strong timbers, and the ends 
were boarded up ; the openings toward the road having small hinged 
doors for entrance and ventilation. The bunks were built in tiers 
along each side, three pair on a side, making twelve in all. Their 
frames were of wood and their bottoms of interlocked steel wire. 

During the three days we were there we had ample proof that 
the place w^as, or would soon be, an active portion of the front. 
Reference to the map showed that we were about fifteen miles west 
of Verdun. Every morning and evening we could hear the dull 
booming of cannon and the whistle of shells. Several times during 
the nights w^e were aroused by gas alarms. But the feature of 
greatest note was the steady stream of trucks, wagons, and men 
that choked the road day and night. The highway was churned 
into a ribbon of deep mud by the constant pounding it received. 
Truck-loads of food, equipment, rifle ammunition, artillery ammuni- 
tion, and all sorts of supplies went by unceasingly. Guns, caissons, 
and gun carriages drawn by many teams of horses, or by huge 
lumbering tractors, passed in great number. Of these there were 
both American and French. France and America were preparing 
to strike the greatest blow the Hun had ever received and apparently 
cared little whether or not he knew it, for the possibility of air 
observations did not decrease their efforts in the least. Of course, 
they depended upon the great fleets of Allied planes to prevent 
observation to any great degree. If one of two Hun fliers did pene- 
trate our lines the anti-aircraft guns went into action, and co- 
operating with the planes, drove them away, but traffic went on 
unheedingly. 

Our kitchen finally arrived the day after we got in, and we 
began to get good meals again. They had had a long tough trip 
over the busy roads. Most of our spare time was spent in cleaning 
up our equipment ; getting the guns, tripods, pistols, and ammuni- 
tion ready for action. The last outgoing mail was accepted for 
censoring at noon, the 25th. 



Late in the afternoon, Wednesday, the 25th, we turned in our 
blanket rolls and all surplus equipment, retaining only our over- 
coats, helmets, gas-masks, sidearms, and light packs, containing 
reserve rations and slickers. After very little delay we fell into 
column of squads with the mules and carts and started toward the 
front. The roads were simply teeming with men and vehicles. The 
great drive was to start at dawn the morrow and the last of the 
gigantic preparations were being crowded into place. Slowly, very 
slowly, we forged on. Halts were numerous, due to traffic tangles 
which had to be untangled. It was about 7 :30 P. M., twilight, when 
we turned into a by-road that led along a ridge or table-land, 
heavily wooded with tall trees, most of which had been stripped of 
their branches by old shellfire and were now overgrown with vines 
and creepers. We followed the road a short distance and then 
turned aside and halted among the trees to take advantage of what 
little cover they afforded. 

The Runners of Headquarters Platoon were taken down toward 
the front to Major Houts' field headquarters, which had been 
established in a deep hollow. There ensued a wait of nearly half 
an hour before the gun-carts began to arrive and discharge their 
loads of machine-guns, tripods, waterboxes and ammunition boxes. 
Meanwhile, the last vestige of day-light had gone and the desultory 
crashing and flashing of nearby artillery, accompanied by the rum- 
bling of distant guns all along the line, became more apparent. 
Occasionally an enemy shell whistled overhead or exploded some- 
where in the dense woods. Then a new and strange noise was 
heard; a puffing and grinding, rattling and clattering sound. The 
tanks were coming. Soon they appeared where the road entered 
the hollow ; funny, clumsy boxes built of steel and mounted on 
caterpillar tractors, or long, jointed steel belts that clawed at the 
road as they crept onward. In the turret of each tank was a narrow 
rectangular port through which peeped the muzzles of one-pounders 
and machine-guns. They were the new "baby tanks" and did not 
carry as heavy armament as their bigger brothers. A long stream 
of them, probably a hundred in all, filed steadily past, panting and 
grunting as they sidled around the bend in the road and disappeared. 

As the gun platoons arrived the equipment was taken off the 
carts. In single file, each man with a gun, tripod, or two ammuni- 
tion boxes, we started toward the front line over a path which 
wound through the woods, past battery after battery of big guns, 
and merged itself with a narrow, slippery, rough trail, beset with 
pitfalls of every description. This trail — it scarcely deserves the 
name — led in a general northwesterly direction through wild, dense 
woods, full of tangled undergrowth, vines, and creepers. It was . 
a veritable jungle; old roots tripped us, vines that ran along the 
ground entangled our feet, trees felled by shellfire blocked the way, 

89 



old barbed wire caught at our clothing and imbedded its barbs in 
our flesh, thorny bushes scratched our faces and hands, innumerable 
shell-holes, old and new, caught us unawares in the darkness, 
causing us to slip on their treacherous rims and slide into their 
watery bottoms. Due to the recent heavy rains, the path itself was 
slimy with mud. We had to rest frequently, stopping in sheer 
exhaustion from the weight of our loads. Finally, after what 
seemed ages, we emerged into a cleared valley and were ordered 
by Lieutenant Tilden to lay down our equipment and take a good 
rest. This little valley was our reserve line and many doughboys 
were concentrated behind the barren ridge. Beyond, were our first 
and second lines, and "J^i"i*y-" 

It was now about 11:00 P. M. and having rested ten minutes, 
chatting among ourselves and heartily cussing the Kaiser, we again 
shouldered our burden and, in a long line, filed over the crest of the 
ridge. We were now on a -broad rolling table-land or series of 
grassy minor ridges. The night was fairly clear and we felt that 
we must be easily discernible to the enemy. The way was compara- 
tively clear ; it was necessary only a few times to pass back the 
warning ''Heads up! Wire!" After having progressed about two 
kilometers we entered a communicating trench which connected 
with a board walk, or long low bridge, which crossed a swampy 
bit of ground. At the end of it was the second line, behind another 
low fold in the land. Here, again, we found a host of men waiting 
for the dawn of "the day." The captain met us and we rested for 
over half an hour, awaiting orders. 

At about twelve o'clock our artillery began to open up from 
the hills behind. The initial bombardment was on ! Steadily the 
thundering of the guns grew in intensity — seventy-fives, six-inch, 
nine-inch, great naval guns, combined in an every increasing roar. 
The ridges for miles spat livid flame as battery after battery came 
into action. The sky was lit up with red and orange reflections of 
light that flickered like sheet lightning. Hundreds, thousands of 
shells whistled overhead; the seventy-fives with the short wicked 
hiss of escaping steam, the sixes and nines with a slightly duller, 
but equally fearsome sound, the huge naval and siege gun shells 
with a long, slow, throbbing whine, gas shells of every size with 
their peculiar "wobble." Suddenly the trench howitzers, virtually 
alongside of us in the second line, began to crash. Showers of 
sparks burst from their muzzles. The enemy began to return the 
bombardment and shrapnel and high-explosives burst above and 
around us. Having reached a high pitch of intensity, the great 
barrage kept on through the night, never faltering, never weakening. 
Jerry was sure catching Hell! 

Meanwhile, that part of the infantry which was to form the 
first wave began to file through communicating trenches to the 

90 



front line. Our company waited until they were in their places. 
A runner came across the board walk from the rear and informed 
the captain that a ration party coming up with "slum" and coffee 
was almost exhausted and needed aid. Three runners were sent 
back to help them. Ten or fiteen minutes later the company took 
up the equipment and started on the last lap to the front line. The 
communicating trench which we followed was ankle deep, and in 
places knee deep with sticky, watery ooze. It was a long, weary 
struggle before we reached our positions with the first-wave in- 
fantry. Then we loafed in the deep front line trench, awaiting the 
zero hour — 5 :30 A. M. During this time we endured a harassing 
shellfire and witnessed for the first time the actual wounding of 
comrades in battle. Several infantrymen were stricken before the 
drive started. At about 4:30 A. M. the ration party arrived with 
two great cans of "slum" and coffee. The captain himself took 
charge of the "feeding" and though the stuff was cold after its 
long'trip, how we did enjoy it! 



91 




The zero hour was approaching. At 5 :20 A. M. Major Houts 
passed the word to prepare to go over. The doughboys gripped 
their rifles tightly. We machine-gunners looked carefully over the 
guns, testing their mechanism, and making sure that the tripods 
were clamped and strapped tightly. The ammunition and water 
boxes were inspected to make sure that the belts of cartridges were 
not jammed and that there was plenty of water. The steam hoses 
and spare parts kits were given the ''once-over." Helmet straps 
were adjusted, waist-belts given a reassuring little hitch, pack straps 
fixed comfortably, and leggings fastened securely. 

Meanwhile the great barrage went on with seemingly ever in- 
creasing volume. We all set our watches to conform with that of 
the captain. The minutes passed unnoticed ; three men actually 
snatched a little sleep. We chatted with one another on minor 
topics, usually far removed from the present situation. We cannot 
help wondering at the absolute coolness with which we spent those 
last few minutes before the attack. Perhaps it was merely blissful 
ignorance ! 

We looked at our watches — 5 :29 ! 

"Well," some private remarked, ''damn near time — gimme a 
chew." Those men who chewed tobacco took a generous mouthful. 

Suddenly there came a definite change in the sound of our 
barrage. It settled, rather was augmented and concentrated, into 
a steady deep-throated roar like that of the Niagara. We knew in- 
stantly that the moment had come and quivered with the realization. 

"Let's go, boys!" shouted Major Houts in his deep bass voice, 
which carried above that awful din as it had carried over the drill- 
fields in old Camp Sheridan. 

92 



Up over the parapet we scrambled, boosting and dragging one 
another to the level of No Man's Land, and as we started forward 
a great broad flare of red, white, and blue lit up the sky— America 
was striking! 

Special details had been previously sent out to cut dozens of 
paths through our barbed wire entanglements. Pouring out through 
these lanes like a black flood we formed our combat groups and 
began an orderly movement toward the German lines. We had 
no sooner begun our advance than the enemy sent up great flares. 
Myriads of star-shells burned overhead with bluish-white light; 
rockets burst in showers of little stars ; broad fan-like flares mounted 
the heavens like the flames from a hundred smelters; green, red, 
and white signal lights, like the fiery balls of Roman candles, hung 
in the skv, flickered and went out; long squirming 'V\iterpillars" 
sailed upward to float high in the air, their little chains of lights 
burning steadily and then, one by one, disappearing. It was the most 
magnificent display of fireworks any of us had ever witnessed ; the 
whole horizon seemed enveloped in a great conflagration, so stupen- 
dous in its proportions that we were momentarily awed and shaken. 

Our advance continued steadily. Only the shrill whistles could 
now be depended upon to convey orders above the titanic, churning, 
shriek and roar of shells. \Vhen the flares were brightest we 
crouched in the thousands of shellholes, or ''froze" rigidly in our 
tracks, ^^'e could see the bellying smoke and flying earth in the 
parish lidit, where our barrae:e was falling. When the light died 
down we trudged on toward the goal. 

At the time we could only guess at the battle's proportion, but 
the far distant flashes up and down that long range of hills, and the 
steady, throbbing rumble of still more distant guns told us that we 
were initiating one of the greatest oflfensives of the war. The very 
thought that ^ the Thirty-Seventh had been one of the divisions 
chosen to ''shock" the line was enough to inspire us, to say nothing 
of the realization that "the folks at home" tomorrow would be 
reading of the things we did that day ! 

Thinking these thoughts as we pressed ever onward, we felt 
a welling up of strange sensations. When a man felt it, his teeth 
clenched^ involuntarily, his chest rose and fell rapidly, his fists auto- 
matically closed tightly, and with a very perceptible tremor his 
muscles' pulled together rigidly. W^e were undergoing that "keying 
up" without whidi a man could not possibly endure the terrific 
strain required of him. It must be much the same sensation which 
causes the tautening ripple of muscles and bristling of hair on a 
dog's back when he scents danger or a fight. After a short time 
the keved-up feeling seemed natural and we took no further notice 
of it. ' 

93 



Still another great emotion was born in us as we found time 
to gaze out over the battle-fields. We saw thousands of helmeted 
silhouettes bearing bayoneted rifles or the deadly machine guns 
through barbed wire and shell holes, dragging the little one-pounder 
guns over the rugged ground, and struggling with heavy ammunition 
boxes. An armed host, every man going in one direction, with one 
purpose, and all advancing in relentless systematic order. We were 
a part of it! Call it egotism if you will, but we felt that great 
pride of our nationality coursing through our veins. We were 
Power, and nothing could stop us. We were Americans ! 

But "J^^^y" was not permitting us to come on unhindered. 
Shrapnel was bursting above us, before us, beside us, behind us. 
High explosives were falling in a systematic barrage. The air 
rapidly became reeking with the odor of burnt powder and chem- 
icals. We occasionally smelled irritating poisonous gas and had to 
use our masks. 

Now and then one of the dusky forms would stagger, reel, and 
crumple in a heap ; struck by a flying bit of shrapnel or a shell frag- 
ment. Again, there would come a blinding flash and a terrific 
explosion — four or five comrades disappeared. It w^as ugly, sicken- 
ing, unnerving, but our training and our "keying up" overcame the 
nausea we could not help but feel. The only effect was a further 
tightening of the jaws. 

After a while we were ordered to spread out slightly, but we 
boi»e on. And, as a matter of course, we were learning shell dodg- 
ing. Observations and reasoning told us that to "flop" was our only 
salvation. We found that a shell's point of impact could be judged 
by the sound it made. When they came close we flopped, and 
flopped flat ! 

And with us always was that never ceasing roar. Can we 
forget it? The collected thunder of a hundred thousand years 
seemed to be tumbling around our heads. 

Presently the light of dawn spread slowly over the land and 
the flares became dimmer and fewer in number. Our artillery, from 
the hills behind us, laid down a smoke barrage, and into this we 
plunged. We had now reached the German front line ; rather, the 
place where it had once been. Groping our way through the gray 
vapor, we entered a strip of land, every foot of which had been 
literally pulverized. Everywhere, on every side — nothing but yawn- 
ins: shell craters, cluttered with broken timbers, twisted bars of 
steel from dugout roofs, broken rifles, torn German packs, and all 
sorts of debris. It gave the impression that a gigantic series of 
dynamite charges had been exploded simultaneously and had turned 
the whole terrain upside down. Indeed, the barrage that was let 
loose upon the Germans that night was infinitely worse. Those 

94 



remains of the famous HIndenburg Line bore mute witness to 
the fact. 

While our great smoke screen shielded our advancing combat 
groups from the enemy, it caused extreme difficulty in the mainte- 
nance of liaison, the most important part of any army. A certain 
amount of confusion resulted which was not fully corrected until 
we had passed out of the screen. For liaison, or communications 
between units, we were almost entirely dependent upon runners. 
Especially was this true of units in the first and second waves, of 
which our company was a part. A runner, sent out with a message, 
lost sight of his own body of troops before he had gone twenty 
yards. Unless he was equipped with a compass and knew the exact 
relation of position of his and other commands, he easily became 
lost. Even with the knowledge of compass bearings and the rate 
of advance, regaining his unit was guesswork. As a matter of fact, 
very few runners had this information and consequently many were 
lost for hours at a time. Other men, also — often large groups of 
them — being separated from their outfits by chance shellfire or 
orders to spread out, wandered helplessly about or attached them- 
selves to the other advancing units. 

In spite of these very important difficulties the general advance 
went on, only slightly impeded, each company ''steering" by the 
compass. Meanwhile, overhead could be heard the buzzing of 
Allied planes, observing the drive. As yet we could not determine 
whether or not the German aircraft were giving battle. 

As we swept over Jerry's front line we killed or captured the 
few men who had been left to hold us up. Their fate depended 
entirely upon the amount of resistance they ofifered — usually none 
at all. Having cleaned up the front line, we now entered an equally 
devastated wilderness of tangled undergrowth, thorn-bushes, barbed 
wire defences, and dense woods of tall trees. Every step was 
fraught with a thousand difficulties. A veritable maze of barbed 
wire extended through the place, strung and criss-crossed from tree 
to tree, and hidden by the underbrush. We had struck the famous 
Argonne Forest. 

Up to this point we had encountered only artillery fire. Now, 
as we sweated and struggled to tear our way through this barrier, 
the machine gun bullets began to sing around us. Our smoke screen 
no longer was there to cover us, for we had reached higher ground. 
We fought a tooth-and-nail fight with even the odds of Nature 
against us. It is impossible to recount that raging battle in minute 
detail. We were hammering at dozens of machine-gun nests at a 
time and as fast as we reduced them, and, scratched and bleeding, 
plunged through the bushes to further our advance, we found our- 
selves up against an equal or greater number. We outflanked them, 

95 



or took them by frontal attack, aided by one-pounders and machine 
guns. Daring men sneaked upon them through the brush, and 
silenced them with hand grenades. We lost lives, but the advance 
continued. 

Skulking Germans were driven out by the moppers-up, whose 
business it was to follow the first wave and investigate every nook 
and cranny of the bushes, trees, old trenches, and dugouts. If any 
were found who offered resistance they were promptly shot down 
or bayoneted, or driven from their hiding places with hand grenades. 

Shrapnel and H. E. plagued us at varied intervals — whenever 
a momentary lull of our artillery permitted the enemy to open up 
with his. When our guns regained fire superiority the German fire 
weakened. 

The enemy's second and third lines fell and by noon we had 
penetrated far into the forest fastnesses in spite of this continued 
stubborn opposition. The country was ideal for just the type of 
resistance in which the Germans were adept. Their machine-guns 
popped away at us from behind every form of cover. In addition 
to being well camouflaged, most of them were in pillboxes or con- 
crete emplacements reinforced with steel, which our rifle and 
machine-gun fire could not penetrate. Snipers, hidden in shell- 
craters, dugouts, copses, and trees, harassed us incessantly. The 
land being heaved up in a series of heavily wooded parallel ridges, 
every valley and clearing was a death-trap. It was gruelling, tough, 
costly fighting: a sort of Indian warfare such as our forefathers 
must have known in the forests of the New World. 

It was in conquering this first tract of wilderness that we lost 
our first man, Herbert Stolte. We had been engaged in reducing 
a machine-gun nest and, having silenced it, were dismounting our 
guns and preparing to move forward. Stolte was instantly killed 
while removing the tripod of his gun. A bullet struck him in the 
armpit as he was shouldering the burden. As word of his death 
passed from man to man, horror, and then a mad desire for ven- 
geance, clutched us. Shortly afterward, Jimmy Wilson got a 
machine-gun bullet through the neck near the collar bone. We 
began to "see red". 

In spite of the ever stiffenino- opposition we lunq;e(l from ridge 
to ridge, and won the way through the first great forest barrier by 
early afternoon. At the fam.ous ''Crossroads" in the woods we 
fought an ordinary pitched battle and hurled ourselves upon the 
Huns until, quivering with losses, their line crumpled and they 
withdrew to a point before Mountfaucon. 

We had been advancing too swiftly for the artillery supporting 
us, which was having great difficulty in moving up through the 
devastated terrain we had won. We therefore were forced to halt 

96 



on the very edge of the forest and throw out outposts, or islands 
of resistance, in the open valley ahead. 

Behind our lines thousands of Engineers were already labor- 
ing to build temporary roads through the shell stricken land ; using 
logs, planks, bundles of brush, and all sorts of materials in their 
construction ; even the stones from the ruined houses in Avocourt 
were pounded into bits with hammers and carried in little sacks 
to help provide a foundation. As fast as the new road crept forward, 
the long line of trucks and wagons moved ahead — they could move 
no faster than the road itself ! Artillery, however, had to get 
through no matter what the cost, and sweating horses and cursing 
men strove to press on through the mire and wreckage. And all the 
while German shells were wreaking havoc among them. The traffic 
and conmiunication problems were indeed fraught with danger and 
almost insurmountable difficulties. 

Up on the line, we busied ourselves consolidating our positions 
with an eye for counter attacks, and then settled down for the 
night, each man in his little fox-hole. Sleep, of course, was clearly 
out of the question, for the Germans shelled the woods constantly. 
It was possible to snatch a few moments of oblivion now and then, 
but restful repose could not be had. 

In the morning we received word that the artillery could not 
give us any support, as they had been unable to move up sufficient 
guns during the night. In place of that we were to have tanks to 
help us, but 8:30 A. M. came and none had yet appeared. Orders 
came to advance without them. Forming in combat columns, we 
moved out of the covering forest into the cleared valley ahead. The 
enemy had withdrawn his lines further during the night and we 
encountered only weak shell-fire. 

On our right front, two kilometers to the northeast, was the 
famous city of Moimtfaucon. one of the three great objectives of 
the offensive — Mountfaucon, Cierges, and Sedan. Rising 342 metres 
above sea-level, it was the dominating height of the Argonne ; more 
than 30 metres higher than any other eminence between the Meuse 
and the Argonne on either side of the old battle line. From an 
observation post on Mountfaucon it is said that the Crown Prince 
watched the many fruitless assaults upon Verdun in 1916. Even 
Dead Man's Hill and Hill 304, which figured so prominently in that 
struggle, were overtopped by it. French army strategists had de- 
clared unequivocally that the height was impregnable. 

We swiftly advanced over two crests of land which was un- 
obstructed by trees or brush, but thickly sown with barbed wire. 

On the far side of the second crest, two abandoned 155- 
millimeter guns were found. They were well supplied with ammuni- 

97 



tion which was stored in wicker cases nearby. The doughboys 
turned one gun around and fired a dozen rounds in the direction 
of the enemy ; a stunt which caused Jerry to become excited and 
send over a few planes to discover whence came this unexpected 
harassing. They were at once assailed by our planes, and driven 
off after a lively air battle. Near these abandoned guns were several 
dugouts sheltered by a clump of old apple trees, among them a very 
snug place which had evidently been used as an artillery command 
post by the Germans. It was fitted with telephones and signal 
systems communicating with their old lines around the Crossroads. 
Our Medical Detachment speedily transformed it into an advanced 
dressing station. 

We now mounted the third ridge, which was covered by 
orchards on the near side. The divisions' right flank was now 
storming Montfaucon. Emerging from the orchards we found our- 
selves upon a bare, flat crest or plain, and up against an extensive 
system of trenches and barbed wire entanglements, many of which 
were twenty yards in width. Beyond lay more such defences. 
Through these we cut our way with considerable difficulty, harassed 
by well directed shellfire and spraying shrapnel, and moved on 
across the open plateau for half a kilometer. Here we were con- 
fronted by a shallow valley dominated by another rise in the land 
beyond. Our company was supporting the first wave of infantry, 
and, following a few yards behind them, we descended the bare slope. 

Suddenly hell broke loose from three sides ; machine guns 
opened up on us from both flanks and front, whizzbangs exploded 
amongst us, trench mortars, Minnie Wurfers, ''flying pigs," and 
big H. E.'s descended upon us with terrifying crashes, and rifle fire 
augmented the extreme danger of our predicament. 

Everywhere in that little valley our boys were seeking cover, 
in the shell-holes, behind logs, and knolls, and in the sparse brush. 
To remain standing meant almost certain death — dozens were almost 
literally riddled with bullets. To hug the earth was only a shade 
safer because of the countless falling shells. Men running for 
cover toppled down in their tracks ; others were stricken where 
they lay, by flying shrapnel and shell fragments ; many more were 
blown to bits by direct hits from big shells or killed by concussion. 
The valley was rapidly becoming a shambles. 

But we had with us a cool leader, Lieutenant John A. Tilden. 
Under his direction we made a tremendous effort, and with a hun- 
dred narrow escapes won our way back up the hill. All twelve of 
our Vickers guns were set up in a row along the bare crest and 
went instantly into action. Over the heads of our helplessly trapped 
infantry we directed a sustained, concentrated fire. Twelve guns 
spat out bullets at the rate of nearly six hundred per minute, and 

98 



with marvelous effect. The Germans were driven from their van- 
tage place and began to flee in disordered retreat over the opposite 
hill. Our fire cut great swaths among them. We could see them 
struggling and scrambling to escape, throwing away rifles, helmets, 
and packs as they went. They were cut down ten or fifteen at a 
time ; our gunners could plainly see the effect of our fire, and direct 
it accordingly. 

Four minutes of steady firing cleared the hill of the enemy and 
silenced his machine guns, this enabling our comrades of the infantry 
to escape from the valley. It also drew the attention of the enemy 
artillery to us, and we began to get all their fire — that is ever the 
fate of machine-gunners. 

Our positions offered no concealment whatsoever and had been 
used only because of the emergency. In getting the guns into action. 
Lieutenant Tilden had recklessly exposed himself ; the men had 
risen to the need with supreme coolness and courage. He now saw 
that to remain any longer than necessary in this exposed position 
would mean the annihilation of his entire command. Thrun, 
Brahler, and Griswold had been killed by whizz-bangs while work- 
ing heroically to bring more ammunition to the guns. Speary and 
Barbour had been wounded by machine gun bullets, Walter White 
and Bartow by shell fragments. 

While engaged in the perilous task of getting the guns out of 
action and into the cover of a small trench about one hundred yards 
back, the Lieutenant was caught by a whizz-bang and fell with a 
mangled leg and arm. At the same instant, Privates Vic Earl and 
Morgan were wounded. A second later another whizz-bang got 
Privates Olin Smith and Lloyd Wheeler. Wheeler's arms were 
torn cruelly by large fragments and hung limply from his shoulders. 

The wounded were dragged into the shallow trench and given 
first-aid. Private Wheeler and Lieutenant Tilden were in serious 
condition and volunteers rushed them on makeshift stretchers 
through the hot shell fire to the dressing station. When they got 
there, Lieutenant Tilden absolutely refused to let the Medics dress 
his wounds until they had cared for Wheeler, who was losing blood 
in profusion and weakening rapidly. 

Meanwhile the withdrawal from the fatal spot had been suc- 
cessfully completed without further losses. We reorganized our 
gun squads with what men remained and established machine gun 
outposts for the protection of the main body of infantry, now dug 
in among the trees of the old orchard on the rear side of the ridge. 

It was now 3 :00 P. M. and it was decided that we should 
remain in our present positions until the morrow, when, with the aid 
of artillery, we could force the strong-point in the valley beyond. 

99 



It has not been mentioned in the foregoing account that the 
French tanks we had expected in the morning finally arrived just 
as the infantry was escaping from the valley and our machine-guns 
were being dismounted. Five of them appeared on the flank of our 
position and started down into the valley. They helped us only by 
drawing a portion of the enemy fire, and did not get far. All were 
put out of action, by what were apparently Minnie Wurfers, three 
minutes after they appeared lumbering within range. 

During the night, things were comparatively quiet, and some 
of us succeeded in snatching a bit of sleep at odd moments. Rain 
fell, at various intervals, in little showers twenty or thirty minutes 
in duration. The earth was already oozing water from the rainy 
weather of the past few weeks, and the present rain softened the 
surface into a sticky mud. We were restless, and a bit nervous. 
Between snoozes we paced the hillside and gazed anxiously at the 
sky for signs of dawn. In spite of the conditions, however, it will 
be remembered that we still had the spirit to laugh and joke. 

Shortly after midnight a water-wagon full of coffee arrived in 
the valley behind us. We went back in detachments to get the 
precious liquid. While we were slightly disappointed because it 
was only lukewarm, we nevertheless considered it a great treat. 
We had subsisted on bully and water for forty-eight hours. 

At last the dawn of the twenty-eighth came ; misty, chill, and 
wet. Our company was shifted to reserve and a company from the 
machine-gun battalion took our places in support of a fresh bat- 
talion of infantry. 

The attacking wave went over, accompanied by a light barrage, 
and we followed a few hundred yards behind. The strong-point in 
the valley had been evacuated by the enemy during the night and 
did not now hold us up. The first wave crossed it. We reserves, 
however, had no sooner started than the table-land ahead was 
drenched with shellfire. Apparently it was the intention of the 
Germans to isolate the first wave and support-line from the main 
body, and then trap them at some point ahead. Twice we were 
forced back by the intensity of their fire, but the third attempt suc- 
ceeded. We spread out across the field and won our way through 
by short spurts, hugging the earth and taking a chance on escaping 
direct hits whenever the shells fell thickly. 

Soon we were in sight of the village of Ivoiry. It had been 
rumored that Montfaucon had fallen before the onslaught of our 
division right wing the day before. Now we determined that all 
hell itself shouldn't keep us out of Ivoiry. We saw the first wave 
surge into the little village and the sounds of pitched battle came 
from the streets. As reserves we were denied the opportunity to 
get into the fray, so we had to be content with watching it. 

100 



Ivoiry lay in a sort of basin formed by the converging of several 
valleys. We lay on the heights slightly southeast of it. A narrow 
white road ran parallel with our positions and dipped down the 
valley into the village. It had been raining, but now the sun shone 
fitfully and the water on the grass and trees glistened. The white- 
washed stone houses gleamed brightly against a back-ground of 
dense woods. A few shrapnel shells burst in puffs of white smoke 
which floated lazily in the air, but so close were the combatants in 
the village that neither side dared shell it for fear of injuring their 
own men. It began to rain again, and the sky turned leaden gray. 

Suddenly we saw the khaki-line burst from the other side of 
the town and plunge into the dense woods. Ivoiry was taken. 

We could hear the rattle of machine guns and rifles and see the 
shrapnel puffs among the trees. More resistance ; and evidently it 
was stiff. 

Our line moved forward a hundred yards or so to the hillside 
on the right of Ivoiry. Here we lay for two hours, as the battle 
for the woods went on. Meanwhile, we were being shelled and 
sprayed with shrapnel, but we hung on, taking cover in the shell- 
holes and along the low embankment of a narrow gauge railroad. 
Part of our company lay in the ditches along the Ivoiry Road. Air 
battles went on unceasingly and we watched the war overhead with 
interest, except when the ''Hiss-s-s-s Bang!" of H. E.'s di- 
verted our attention to our own safety. 

During quiet intervals we managed to eat our noon mess ; a 
load of bully, hardtack, and syrup had been brought up in spite of 
the dangerous shellfire, and two carts of coffee had been sneaked 
into the valley. We risked terrible destruction by massing re- 
peatedly around these carts to get the coveted stuff. Our officers 
ordered us to disperse time and again, but we paid little heed. 
Happily no harm came of the matter, but much might have hap- 
pened. We record this petty insubordination merely to illustrate 
the risks men will take when their stomachs prompt them. 

Shortly after noon, we again picked up our equipment and 
moved forward. The shelling at once tripled its intensity. Without 
a doubt we were under observation by some means unknown to us. 
By an almost interminable series of spurts, we gained our imme- 
diate objective, a bare hillside on the right of the woods beyond 
Ivoiry. Again we laid down our guns and took cover. 

The constant harassing we were undergoing began to tell on 
our nerves, which had been in a state of tension for so long that 
they began to frazzle. The steady rain increased the irritation we 
felt. We could not fight shell-fire ; just had to take our medicine and 
hang on. The exhaustion of our reserves of strength by the weight 

101 



of our equipment also was apparent. It requires every ounce of 
guts a man possesses to keep pace with the infantry when he is 
loaded down with fifty pounds extra weight. 

Afternoon wore on into evening, and evening into night. The 
driving rain continued with unabated energy, and we felt the chill 
entering the very marrow of our bones. Borrowing entrenching tools 
from nearby infantrymen, many of us scooped out holes in the hill- 
side and tried to shelter ourselves with overcoats and slickers ; others 
dug in along the ditch of the road at the base of the hill. There was 
no escape from the elements in these rude devices. The water 
seeped in through the sides or trickled over the edges of our fox- 
holes and formed pools and puddles in the bottoms. However, our 
exhaustion was so complete that we paid no heed, and lying in the 
water, fell asleep. Occasionally we were awakened by the crashing 
explosion of "a close one." Rheumatic pains racked our joints and 
disturbed our slumber. 

We were very fortunate that night, in that no man of our com- 
pany was killed or wounded ; not a few of the doughboys, dug-in on 
our flanks, were blasted from their little shelters by chance direct 
hits. 

Many men found slight cover in the half demolished buildings 
of Ivoiry. An advanced dressing station had been set up in one of 
the old houses and we clustered there just for the comfort the dim 
candlelight gave us. The windows of course had been carefully cov- 
ered with old blankets or there could have been no light at all per- 
mitted. Wounded men were being brought in regularly ; found, God 
knows where, out in the black, wild night. Some of them, poor lads, 
were in terrible agony, and what with the already overwrought state 
of our nerves, we could not stand to hear them or see them suffer. 
We dispersed and took shelter in dark corners of the other houses. 

All night long the shells crashed down among the buildings. 
The enemy doubtless figured that we would congregate there on such 
a night. Many men paid with life and limb for the modicum of 
comfort the place offered. 

Gray dawn, accompanied by the never-ceasing rain, heralded the 
approach of day; the fourth day of the drive, Sunday, the twenty- 
ninth. We grouped in twos and threes and shivered from exposure. 
Many were weak and on the verge of illness. 

We saw Major Houts in conference with a superior officer, a 
colonel. The two were pacing back and forth along the hillside. We 
later learned that they were arguing heatedly over the question of 
whether or not we should advance. The colonel told Major Houts 
that, despite repeated efforts, his troops had been unable to conquer 
the Ivoiry woods completely. The place was literally impregnated 

102 



with mustard gas and swept continually with shellfire. It could not 
be taken, he stated, without great artillery preparation, and further- 
more, he had authentic information that the Germans were about to 
make a heavy counter-attack. Major Houts replied that his men 
would attack and go through that woods ; there w^ould be no half- 
way measure, — they'd go through ! The upshot of the matter was 
that the colonel ordered the major to fall back and prepare for a 
counter-attack, asserting that he would take full responsibility. 
Major Houts reluctantly obeyed. 

The orders to retire came to Captain Wedow a few minutes 
later. It was nearly 10:00 o'clock. Shouldering our burdens we 
started down the valley in three single files. We had been ordered 
to follow the base of the ridge for a few hundred yards and then cut 
back across the road and over the rear hill. This valley and hill had 
been constantly under fire during the morning. We entered upon 
the perilous ground. 

Only a bare hundred yards had been covered when the enemy 
suddenly poured in a terrific barrage of H. E., gas, and shrapnel upon 
us. With incredible swiftness it developed into the dreaded box- 
barrage, by means of which entire units have often been annihilated. 
We w^ere trapped. There was but one thing to do ; run the gantlet 
of fire. That mysterious direct observation which had impeded our 
movements the day before was again upon us. We learned later that 
an observation post had been in operation at Montf aucon ; a German, 
concealed in a cellar, watched us by means of a periscope and tele- 
graphed our movements to the enemy artillery. Although we could 
not fathom the mystery at the time, we were painfully aware that 
spmething was wrong. No matter which way we turned the shells 
followed. 

Their gunners must have indeed been skilled men to have made 
so many accurate shots ; we were split in three single files with fifty 
to a hundred yards separating each unit. One six-inch killed 
Norman MacLean, and wounded McKinley King, George Call, and 
Arthur Lego severely while they were seeking shelter for an instant 
in a shell-hole. Another six-inch killed Jack Buch. Then Hine, L. 
G. Smith, Dunn, McGinnis, Shiffman, and Carney were wounded. 
Carney was cut up badly and later died of his wounds. We left 
volunteers to take care of the wounded and carry them to the dress- 
ing station, and pressed on. Spreading out over a wide area, w^e ran 
the barrier of exploding shells and moved to shelter back over the 
hill. All of us who were left had miraculous escapes ; though show^- 
ered time and again with flying dirt and rock, and sprayed with 
shrapnel, we came through safely. 

In the corner of an apple orchard we reorganized our depleted 
command, and took up our assigned positions in support of three 
batteries of artillery. 

103 



Our nerves were now in a state of collapse. Several men were 
slightly gassed and some were suffering from temporary shell-shock. 
The expected counter-attack failed to materialize, and it was assert- 
ed, even by the officers, that we must soon be relieved. Needless to 
say, we all prayed that it come quickly, but the weary hours passed 
on and there were no signs of it. We dug in along the roadside in 
preparation for the night. Meanwhile, the rain continued. 

All night the artillery on the hillside crashed and roared as 
they harassed the enemy. We were so near the guns that the shock 
of their explosions rocked the very ground beneath us and seemed 
to nearly split our eardrums. These were what are known as sacri- 
fice batteries, placed in emergency virtually on the front lines. 

Monday was raw and cold. There had been no change in orders 
and we remained in support of the sacrifice-batteries. During the 
day, dozens of air-battles went on above us, and the roads that 
formed our lines of communication were shelled heavily. We spent 
the time improving our fox-holes, watching the squadrons of planes 
battling overhead, and observing the effect of the shelling. 

The rain ceased for a while and our spirits rose a bit. Various 
means of passing the time developed. We bet everything from fab- 
ulous amounts of money to souvenir buttons on the likelihood of 
certain wagons, — seen now and then going or coming over the ridge 
behind us, — getting through safely or being blown "to flinders." It 
is significant that no tobacco or cigarettes were gambled. Remnants 
of chewing tobacco and a few precious sacks of ''Bull" were discov- 
ered and we enjoyed them as we never had before. To get all pos- 
sible out of the limited amount on hand, the grains of tobacco which 
fell when a cigarette was rolled were caught in the hands or caps 
and put back into the sack and when the invaluable "pill" had been 
passed around and smoked down to the size of an ordinary butt, the 
butt was impaled on a sharpened match-stick and burned to the very 
end! 

Night came again ; still we hung on. Of relief there were still 
no signs. Information came, that our division had more than at- 
tained its objective and that counter-attacks made by the enemy the 
night before had failed to budge our front line ; Montfaucon, orig- 
inally in the path of the division on our right, had been taken and 
held by an encircling movement of our right wing after the enemy 
had twice successfully ejected the other division from the stronghold. 
Our extremely rapid advance had put us at the point of a salient; 
we had taken our final objective, Cierges, and now had only to con- 
solidate and hold the ground we had gained. This news of our suc- 
cess heartened us a great deal, and the now fitful showers of rain 
passed unnoticed, as did all other petty irritations which had been 
undermining our spirits. 

104 



At 1 :00 o'clock the next morning we were relieved. Fresh 
troops filed past in the darkness as we formed up to move out. We 
hiked for almost three hours back over the hills, the sounds of battle 
growing faint in the distance. Finally we came to a valley in which 
was a group of five or six rolling kitchens. Hundreds of men and 
many horses, wagons, and carts were concentrated there, among 
them our machine gun train. Joyfully we laid our heavy guns and 
equipment on the carts and rushed to the kitchens for something to 
eat. Hot coffee and an endless supply of bread and syrup were 
waiting for us. The meal gave us new life. It was too cold to at- 
tempt to sleep so we stamped our feet and beat our arms to keep out 
the chill, and joked and chatted cheerfully until after daybreak. 

It was about 9 :00 A. M. when the company was formed and 
marched back to the crossroads in the forest. Here we rested for 
two hours and then started on the long rough march back to Reci- 
court. 

As though it were rejoicing with us, the sun shone quite warmly 
and our spirits rose still higher. That night we pitched pup-tents 
with the rest of the regiment on the hills back of Recicourt. Here 
only the occasional faint booming of the big guns reached our ears. 
This was the peace and quiet we needed. Our work in the now 
famous Meuse-Argonne offensive was finished. 



Stories of the Argonne 

In the afternoon of the first day, having advanced two or three 
miles with nothing but artillery opposition, we suddenly ran into a 
machine gun barrage. We halted and mounted two guns, and pro- 
ceeded to give them some of their own medicine. The nest which 
they occupied was too well protected, however, for us to penetrate, 
so a one-pounder was brought up. The lieutenant in charge called 
out the fire order, ''Seven hundred — one shot!" The gunner fired, 
but the enemy machine guns still popped. "Nine hundred — one 
shot !" Another shot flew and tore up the brush in the vicinity of 
the enemy's supposed position. Still the machine gun bullets sang 
past us. ''Twelve hundred — one shot !" The third shot hissed over 
and after the explosion their guns ceased firing. "Give 'em the whole 
damn box !" shouted the lieutenant. A moment later we pressed on. 
The first machine gun nest had been destroyed. 

—SERGEANT BERNARD J. RONEY. 



When the barrage that started the drive began at midnight Sep- 
tember 25th, Mess Sergeant Byram, who is a veteran of the war 
with Spain, was sitting on the tongue of the rolling kitchen. He 

105 



listened attentively to the roar of the guns for over ten minutes. 
Suddenly he looked around, and remarked dryly : 

'Tve heard more shooting in the last ten minutes than I heard 
during the whole damn Spanish-American war!" 

—PRIVATE J. H. SPEES. 



NOTICE : — Lost in action in the Argonne Forest on or about 
the 28th day of September — one quill. Finder please return to Pri- 
vate Wesley J. Bigler. 



When little L. G. Smith was wounded in the leg, and almost 
unable to walk, he protested against being sent to the hospital. When 
finally convinced that he must go back he absolutely refused to go 
on a stretcher, but hobbled back by himself so that the few stretchers 
available might be used for the others. 



Bug Speary was rarin' to go on the morning of the second day. 
He picked up a Hun rifle and boo-coo ammunition, turned around, 
and cried, ''Hey, Rulie, betcha I get a Jerry now!" But shortly 
after the advance began a machine gun bullet got him in the pistol- 
pocket district and he was out of luck for his Hun. 

—BUG RUEL. 



On the third day of the drive, while Bemwinkler and I were 
digging a fox-hole with a bayonet and a mess-kit lid, an American 
plane circled once or twice over the field we were in. At that moment 
a couple of Jerry cannon barked and a couple of shells whizzed over 
and landed about twenty feet from us. They were duds. Lieuten- 
ant Shultz came running back and asked if w-e saw where that mes- 
sage dropped ! He thought the plane had dropped a message for us ! 

—MATT MANNING. 



The most trying and tiresome seven hours I have ever put in 
were early in the morning of September 26th. That morning at 
12:15 Lieutenant Merriman picked out Privates Butler, Lasher, 
Rood, Stewart, and myself, with Private Ed. Munson as guide, to 
carry coffee and slump to the trenches for our boys before they 
went over the top. It was the first time over the top in a big drive 
and it may be imagined how we felt. It worked on our nerves as 
well as muscles, carrying that mess, because it was, I really believe, 
about four miles one way. 

One can of coffee and one of slum carried that distance without 
much relief blistered our shoulders after a time. The cans were 

106 



swung on long poles and the poles were rested on our shoulders. 
We simply had to get there before 5 :00 A. M. so that the boys would 
have time to eat before dawn. It was very dark most of the way, 
as we had to go through a woods and follow a path that in lots of 
places was so slippery that we could hardly stand up. Sometimes 
we did slip and go down. We were told by our guide that it was 
only a mile, when we started. I saw afterward that he said that 
just to encourage us. The last half-mile was made in trench-mud 
almost up to our knees. The Captain met us with a detail to help 
out, and led us up this network of trenches to the company. We 
waited while they gobbled their mess and then, somewhat rested, 
started back again. It was daylight the most of the way back 
and the artillery barrage was hitting it up harder than ever. All the 
way through the woods many big guns were lined up, all lifting steel 
over into Jerry's lines. That was music to us, though it deafened 
us and shook the ground beneath our feet. Walking along amongst 
that shooting artillery was a strange sensation; a fellow half ex- 
pected to get his hat or his head blown off. 

When we finally got back we snatched a bit to eat and then 
hitched up the mules and started to follow up the company with 
ammunition. 

— PVT. RAYMOND L. COVERT. 



We all know how hungry a man gets on the battle-field, but if 
you want to know just how hungry a government mule gets, ask 
Private Shaps. Shaps placed his pack on a mule-leader cart as we 
were leaving the Argonne. The mule was tied to the cart, sans oats 
or hay, when we halted for the night. Next morning Shaps woke 
minus a shelter-half, raincoat, two clean suits of underwear, and 
German souvenirs too numerous to mention. The mule had eaten 
them in addition to the padding out of his harness and half a cart- 
shaft. Being a man of God, Shaps didn't swear, but the look he 
gave the mule showed more cuss-words than the whole mule-leading 
gang's vocabulary boasts. 



On the second day of the drive, part of our company was 
trapped in an old artillery emplacement. Jerry was putting a ma- 
chine gim barrage over this place so wc had little chance of getting 
out. The infantry was dragging wounded into this shelter by the 
dozen, many of them being wounded themselves while getting their 
fallen comrades to a place of temporary safety. We helped them as 
much as possible. There were men there with wounds in the head, 
shoulders, and legs ; all awful sight. One of our sergeants came 
crawling in with the report that German tanks were surrounding us. 
There were only forty of us. What chance did we have with tanks? 

107 



We just decided to fight until the last man was killed. We made 
preparations, and then, while we were waiting there with tense 
nerves, a runner came in with the glad news that the tanks were 
French ! 

— PVT. DONALD L. BAXTER. 



Lieutenant Tilden was a charter member of the company. It 
was the morning of the twenty-seventh, just after we had fired our 
barrage and swept the valley clear of Huns, when Tillie got hit. 
Most of us had taken cover in a shallow trench nearby, when the 
enemy artillery started shelling us. Tilden saw something to do and 
paid no heed to the whiz-bangs. Next, I heard my name called and 
looked over the parapet to find Slim Walters, from Akron, trying 
to get the lieutenant into the trench. It was too much for one man 
so I assisted him. After that I dressed the lieutenant's leg and arm 
as best I could. My tin hat cut his upper lip when I ducked a close 
one. The shelling lasted until we had got him started to the rear. 
Tilden was game. 

— SGT. HARRY D. CATER. 



I would like to say a few words about the wonderful nerve 
which Lieutenant Tilden showed in the Argonne drive. With one 
arm broken and leg almost severed by shell fragments, he was 
dragged into the muddy trench with us. The first thing he said was, 
"I am not a very good warrior, I guess." He directed us in giving 
him first aid, telling the Red Cross man to lift his leg up as it 
bothered him ! Then he asked for a cigarette and he smoked as they 
carried him away. 

—PVT. HAROLD RAINES. 



Jerry, Private Lewis Siedler's mule, deserves a wound stripe. 
One of the other mules mistook his tail for army-issue hay. Thus 
the ''tail" ends. 



Jimmy Wilson was wounded by a machine gun bullet while 
trying to get a message from the Second Platoon through a heavy 
machine gun barrage. Atta boy, Jim! Glad to see you're back 
as^ain. 



Sergeant Richner located a sniper hiding in a tree on the first 
morning out. He pointed him out to some riflemen and the sniper 
was ''Fineesh — Toot-sweet!" Richner is sure some snipe-hunter! 



108 



Says Private Pearson, "J^st imagine yourself with a pack on 
your back and carrying a machine gun tripod which weighs about 
fifty-six pounds through a swamp in mud over your shoe-tops. Well, 
that is what we had to do, and believe me it was Hell ! But it had 
to be done ; damn the Kaiser, anyhow !" 



''Before we went over the top," says the well known aforesaid 
Private Pearson, "I sure did think of home and mother, and the 
girl I left behind me. And I wasn't the only one !" 

Guess you're right. Rap! 



At one time on the first day out the enemy snipers had been 
very busy picking off men on all sides. Suddenly two Dutchmen 
crashed through the bushes accompanied by a doughboy, who was 
encouraging them to move on by pricking them in the seat of the 
pants with his bayonet. He was stopped by the Major, who had an 
interpreter converse with them. They answered in monosyllables. 
Suddenly the machine gun bullets began to sing around us and we 
took cover in the shell-holes, — with the exception of Hans and 
Fritz. They were compelled to stand erect and ordered to talk fast 
and quick. They did ! And every time one of them began to bend 
his knees to crouch, in fear of the bullets, the doughboy helped him 
up with the bayonet. The Major got his information and soon we 
knocked out the enemy machine gun nest. 

— SGT. BERNARD T- RONEY. 



Again Private Pearson comes to bat with this, " and the ma- 
chine gun bullets was just as thick as fleas on a dog's back!" 



Lieutenant Fri is a gruesome guy! He lined up his platoon 
before they started for the front and asked them if they all had 
their dog-tags ! 



Never mind, Shaps, you weren't the only one that suffered loss 
on account of a mule. The company council book was eaten by a 
hungry mule at Recicourt, after we came out of the drive. And 
they talk about the digestive ability of an ostrich ! 



The last two men in the company to leave the Argonne were 
Coleman and Johnson. The Skipper detailed them to meet the 
train and inform Lieutenant Smith that the company had gone on 
to Recicourt. He also instructed them to go at once to Headquarters 

109 



Company with the information that we were ready to move out. 
They were gone on this errand five minutes, during which time 
Lieutenant Smith and his outfit slipped by the Crossroads. The two 
waited at the Crossroads for eighteen hours, cussing everything from 
the army to the Kaiser. Finally they gave it up as a bad job and 
found a stimulus to further cussing when they reached Recicourt 
and discovered how they had been fooled. 



Perhaps only a soldier who has drunk his cup of blood and fire 
to the dregs knows that strange mingling of emotions packed into 
that little word "relieved." 

— From The Great Amulet, by Maud Diver. 



It was near the Crossroads that the following occurred. Colonel 
Stansbury was pacing up and down the road near his headquarters. 
A signal corps man was in the woods nearby searching for a break 

in the telephone line. He flashed 
his pocket light to inspect a certain 
wire. 

'Tut out that light!" 

The light went out, but reap- 
peared a moment later in another 
spot. 

"Put out that light !" 

Again it disappeared and then 
showed again. 

"Put out that light, damn it! 
Do you hear me?" 

The signal corps man thought 
he'd have a little fun. 

"Why, Colonel, that ain't a 



VVHEN 
THE FlR^T 

SflUtR-KRRUT 





A^^^^ 



light — that's only the moon !" 

"I don't give a damn what it is ! 



Put it out !' 



An idea of the stupendous troop movements necessary to pre- 
pare for a drive like the Meuse-Argonne may be gained from the 
fact that 800,000 men passed in and out of that portion of the front 
between the second and twenty-fifth of September, to say nothing 
of the vast volume of supplies necessary to maintain them. All 
troops were moved at night. Other traffic went on both day and 
night. Fifteen French divisions were relieved by twelve Ameri- 
can divisions. 



Sergeant Stimmel, Private Raines, Private Frank, and Private 
Bigler were gassed slightly. 



110 



From the Argonne to the Pannes Sector 

October j^d-October 8th 

We remained encamped on the Recicourt hills for only thirty- 
six hours, during which time our extra equipment, which had been 
turned in at the dugouts, prior to our entrance into the drive, was 
returned to us. Unfortunately, a great deal of confusion attended 
the distribution of these blanket rolls, and many never reached their 
owners ; as a result, such things as toilet articles, souvenirs, small 
valuables, clothing, and blankets were lost. A great pile of un- 
claimed property quickly accumulated which, it is sad to say, was 
ruthlessly looted by men who took advantage of the opportunity 
for gain and got away with the goods before the rightful owner 
came along. No great effort was made by those in authority to 
straighten the matter out. The unfortunates had to swallow the 
affair as an object lesson, — we had been ordered to leave such 
things as toilet kits and trinkets behind ; in the next drive we would 
know better than to obey that order ! 

Because of the possibility of attack by roaming enemy planes, 
we moved to old French barracks in the nearby village of Brabant. 
The change wasn't altogether pleasing to us, for pup-tents were 
infinitely preferable to the uncomfortable laced-wire bunks and 
filthy barracks ; besides, we objected on general principles to un- 
necessary movements, and the possibility of air-raids was certainly 
remote. It is true that we, ourselves, were as filthy as the old bar- 
racks, — as yet, we had had no opportunity to clean up ; our clothing 
was tattered and dirty, our shoes stiff with water and mud. and our 
bodies covered with dried sweat and vermin, — but even filthv sol- 
diers like a clean abode. 

We were not in the barracks very long, and the little time of 
leisure was given up entirely to rest ; we were "played out" in 
every sense of the phrase, — hardly a man had escaped the contrac- 
tion of that disagreeable malady, trench rheumatism ; every one of 
us had caught colds, and many whose stomachs had proved unequal 
to the strain were suffering with dysentery. However, above our 
multitudinous troubles, rose that spirit which had won fame for 
our division and earned us the coveted sobriquet "Spear-Heads" or 
shock troops ; the spirit that laughs at any obstacle ; the spirit of the 
true soldier ; the spirit that wins battles. 

Nati^ rally, the question now uppermost in our minds was 
"^^'here do we go from here?" It was rumored that we were to 
rest five days and re-enter the fight, that we were going directlv to 
a quiet sector, and that our destination was a division rest-camp. 
Wild conjectures that we were going- either to Russia or into a 
coming great offensive in the Alps passed among us. 

Ill 



At about 3 :(X) P. M. October 3rd, we received orders to pre- 
pare at once to move out on trucks. One rumor died a sudden 
death ; we were not going back into the Argonne. With alacrity 
we rolled packs and cleaned up our quarters. A considerable amoimt 
of bully -beef and French army hard-tack was on hand at the 
kitchen and we were invited to help ourselves. Very little bully 
was taken, but we filled our pockets with the hard-tack which we 
liked exceedingly well, as it gave us something to gnaw at on hikes 
or long journeys. It is surprising how a nibble of hard-tack, now 
and then, will lighten the longest march or weary ride. 

We marched to the trucks, which lay in a long train on the 
road a kilometer distant, stopping at an emergency ration dump 
long enough to pick up our traveling rations. It was now about 
4:00 o'clock and becoming dusky; night came before we had been 
on our way half an hour. Of this, our second truck-trip, nothing 
much can be said which would not be repetition ; w^e were so very 
much worn out that we paid little heed to passing scenery or our 
direction. We traveled at great speed throughout the night and 
were still rumbling along at daybreak. When we came to Bar-le- 
Duc it became evident that we had been going south from Reci- 
court. At Bar-le-Duc we turned east, and shortly thereafter, at 
about 8:00 A. M., halted and debouched into a woods near the 
town of Void. 

We were told that we might take it easy and get all the rest 
we could as we were to remain in the woods all day. Our kitchen 
had been loaded on one of the trucks, but inquiry disclosed the 
fact that the truck which bore it had broken down during the 
night, and had been left behind. We were out of luck and had to 
make the best of it. 

Building brushwood fires, we cooked the remainder of our 
travel rations. Those who were so lucky as to have coflfee and 
sugar in their condiment-cans made coflfee and soaked the salvaged 
French hardtack in it. This business of cooking our own meals 
and scraping up all manner of food from the countryside was be- 
comins: a matter of course. 

The weather was damp and chilly, with occasional drizzles of 
rain. We felt rather dispirited and either hugged the little brush- 
wood fires, conversing in short sentences and monosyllables, or 
rolled ourselves in overcoats and slickers and slept the rest of the 
day. 

When darkness came we again took the road, — on foot. Our 
march was fifteen kilometers in length, beginning at Void and ending 
at Vignot, a small town one kilometer from Commercy. We were 
now in the vicinity of Toul, a portion of France which is particularly 

112 



mountainous. In our condition, such a march under full pack was 
an exquisite torture. To cap the climax, we had the devil's own time 
getting billets. It was very late, nearly midnight, and no doubt the 
inhabitants whom we aroused were peeved when their rest was dis- 
turbed. Anyhow, they were snappish, discourteous, and extremely 
slow in opening the doors to their barns and stables. One old 
woman, in particular, argued and haggled stubbornly over the num- 
ber of men she was to have for her billet. There were only ten 
men of the company left unbilleted and she demanded forty, refus- 
ing entrance to a lesser number. We finally wheedled her into 
complying with our washes by a fictitious promise to bring thirty 
more men on the morrow, and at last got under cover. Here let us 
insert an extract from the personal diary of one of the men who was 

in the aforementioned billet : '' then there was a damned old 

sheep below us that kept us awake half the nis^ht with its infernal 
Baa! Baa!— What ahfe!" 

Next day, being without our kitchen and without rations, we 
rushed to the stores of the town and bought such articles as canned 
peas, beans, tomatoes, peaches, jam, cheese, potted meat, and 
bouillon cubes. The cost of these things was enormous, but we 
had to eat, so we did not take account of that. When it is consid- 
ered that a pint can of peas or beans costs seven francs, — about a 
dollar and a quarter, — it is easily understood why a soldier's francs 
do not go very far. 

That night, to our surprise and indignation, we were ordered 
to roll packs and get ready to move on again. A number of the 
men were so sick and weak that they had to be left behind, with in- 
structions to go to the infirmary. The most pious of us cursed the 
army fluently during that march. It was another gruelling fifteen 
kilometers, which ended at the village of Juoy, where we billeted. 

W^hen we roused ourselves the next morning we found that 
there was still no sign of our kitchen, consequently we got no break- 
fast. At noon we received some vile cofifee and slum which some 
of the cooks had managed to prepare for us in a pair of rusty old 
kettles. We did not kick, however, for we knew that they were 
doing their level best and were handicapped by lack of rations. 

Again that night we hit the road. Would it never end? We 
had hiked only two kilometers when a motorcycle messenger over- 
took us, and we at once turned back and re-entered Juoy. Everyone 
was bewildered and angry. "What in Hell's name are they going 
to do! Hike us all over France?" asked one disgruntled sergeant. 
It was evident that we were the victims of an error of some sort, 
made by those "higher up." At Juoy we found things in an uproar. 
We had no orders and were instructed to fall out and remain near 
at hand. Upon mingling with other companies we received the 

113 



startling information that the Central Powers were asking for an 
armistice and that it was to be granted. The news had been posted 
upon the bulletin board at regimental headquarters. It was rumored 
that all troop movements would cease, and therefore we had been 
called back. It sounded good, seemed authentic, and we wanted to 
believe it was true. 

Coming as we had, directly from the great drive, the news 
caused that indefinable clutching of the heart-strings that is so sweet 
and yet so painful. Could it really be true? We permitted our- 
selves to be swayed, and peeped through the curtain we had delib- 
erately hung between us and the future. Heretofore we had 
schooled ourselves to shut from our minds all thoughts and plans 
for ''after the war." The prospect revealed to us, assuming that 
the great news was true, set our brains reeling with joy. Our 
hearts throbbed against our breasts and our throats felt full with 
the delirium of unexpected happiness. But reason again asserted 
itself and we gradually cooled off and began to consider the matter 
with an undercurrent of suspicion. Suddenly orders came to fall 
in, and soon we were marching in the opposite direction out of Juoy. 
Harsh laughter echoed up and down the ranks and then, relapsing 
into numb silence, we plodded wearily onward. 

Twelve kilometers in addition to the other four which we had 
hiked uselessly earlier in the evening, were more than enough to 
break our powers of endurance. Sergeant White, Sergeant Freiter, 
Private Donahue, and Private Manning felt so sick and weak that 
they had to be left behind. Sergeant White, by the way. never re- 
turned to the company. W^e have heard that he attached himself to 
another outfit, in what division, we do not know. That sure sign of 
sapped resources, the stretching of the company to twice its ordi- 
nary length, had appeared. We reached our destination, the town 
of Boucq, just in time to prevent the loss of more men. We were 
supposed to meet two companies of the machine gun battalion that 
night and leave on the tram railroad which led out of the place. 
Trouble seemed to be coming in bunches ; the two companies failed 
to show up. 

After waiting in the darkness for several hours, our officers, 
Captain Wedow and Lieutenant Merriman being the only ones with 
us, hunted around town until they found shelter for us from the 
rain and cold. The strain of the past two weeks w^as terrible. Due 
to a mixup of some sort the Skipper and Merry were absolutely at 
sea, and with a bunch of men on their hands who were foot-sore, 
underfed, in low spirits, and on the verge of serious illness. The 
writer knows personally, as do several other men in the company, 
that the Captain and the Lieutenant took turns standing guard, 
while awaiting the other companies, so that every man could snatch 

114 



some sleep. Their self-imposed duty lasted until the next morning. 
1 hen coffee was procured from some unknown source and Humpy 
Turner and a few others made a bucketful of good hot coffee. 

Meanwhile the famished company fell upon the vineyards 
round about and gorged themselves with half-ripe grapes. It was a 
rotten state of affairs to be sure. Some relief from our filthy condi- 
tion was unexpectedly given us when it was found that there was a 
bath house m the town. We collected wood and had a hot bath in 
the afternoon; the first hot bath since that at Indian Village in 
Alsace-Lorraine, two months before. ' 

^ That night (it was now October 7th) the other companies ar- 
rived and we all boarded the waiting tram-train. It was raining 
steadily and we were thoroughly soaked by the time our four hour 
ride on these little flat cars had come to an end. We detrained at 
Lssey, a town captured from the enemy in the St. Mihiel Drive 
and consequently in bad shape. This town lay only four or five 
kilometers from the front and was under shell-fire at times. 

There were no civilians in Essey with the exception of two 
balvation Army girls who operated a canteen. It was one of the 
best canteens we have ever struck; they were extremely accommo- 
dating and good to us, and had a large supply of real good old 
American hard candy on sale at a very low price. Few of us will 
forget those delicious clove-drops, "Iceland Moss" drops, lemon 
drops, hme drops, and striped peppermint sticks! It reminded a 
lellow of Christmas at home. 

We were billeted in an abandoned dwelling on the outskirts of 
the town the rear end of which had been shattered by shellfire 
During the following day we rested and cooked what rations we 
could secure. We could hear the occasional rumble of artillery and 
the explosion of shells along the front. Just before nightfall we 
were suddenly aroused by the shrill whine of a big shell. It landed 
somewhere m the town, several more following shortly afterward 
I he shelling ceased as suddenly as it began, but this served to remind 
us that we were again up against Jerry. 

After darkness had come, we were taken in trucks to the vicin- 
ity of Bouillonville, about four kilometers distant, where our posi- 
tions lay. We were to be in reserve. It was not raining, but the 
night was black and the clouds hung low, a condition much in our 
favor. ^ Upon leaving the trucks we marched over a muddy by-road 
down into a deep-cut gulley or gulch. Near the end of this narrow 
dehle we came to a row of wooden shacks which had been built by 
the Germans and were now occupied by our troops. Headquarters 
Flatoon was dropped off to billet in one of them ; the rest of the 



115 



company went on to the end of the gulley, which opened into a 
broad, deep valley. After descending a flight of rude stairs they 
reached their billets, similar little shacks built on the hillside. 

We found these little buildings to be very comfortable indeed. 
Jerry had left stoves and all behind, and the troops we relieved had 
in most cases kept their fires going until we arrived. To have at 
last reached a haven of real rest in comfortable bunks seemed too 
good to be true. 



116 



October 8th-Octoher idtJi 

The Pannes Sector, as it is officially named, is better known to 
us and the public as the St. Mihiel Sector. In the famous St. 
Mihiel Drive, which began September 12th, the Americans drove 
the Germans with incredible swiftness out of the salient that had 
been a thorn in the side of the Allies for a long time. We were 
now in the portion of that sector known as the Thiacourt Front. 
Our front line lay just a couple of kilos beyond that town, where, 
content with having gained their objectives, the straightening of 
the line necessary to the success of the gigantic plans of General 
Foch, our troops had dug in and consolidated the ground won. 

During the eight days we were in this sector those troops whose 
lot it was to occupy the first line were engaged in some of the hot- 
test trench warfare of the whole war. We lost an astounding num- 
ber of men, wounded by shrapnel and victims of poisonous gas. 
The enemy sprayed the lines continually with shrapnel, high explo- 
sives and gas shells. Trench raids and skirmishes between patrols 
were constantly going on at night. The division, — sent here for a 
short rest, — found itself up against fighting fully as harrowing and 
active as that of the Argonne, but of a dififerent brand. We acquit- 
ted ourselves with highest honors, in spite of the fact that we were 
in terrible condition after our experience as shock troops in that 
great drive. 

Our company was in the reserve line near Bouillonville, a town 
close to Thiacourt, and so we were able to get some sort of rest. 
We were sorely in need of it. On the first day in the sector we had 
to cook our own individual meals, as we had been doing for the past 
week. 

On the second day a kitchen was secured, and once more we 
began to get good meals. The effect of this bit of rest and good 
food was wonderful. We "perked up" and soon were in good 
spirits and good condition again. It was our good fortune that it 
was not our turn to do a hitch in the front line. Our "rest" was 
indeed appreciated, although it was not of the rest-camp type; free 
from the duties and far from the battle lines. 

117 



We were treated to a bar of chocolate, a package of cookies, 
and cigarettes, on October 10th ; a stunt which put us in prime good 
humor and made us appreciate the fact that our officers were think- 
ing of our welfare. 



Private Ray Johnson had been warned by Lieutenant Merri- 
man that he was mentioning names of towns too freely in his letters 
of late, and that in censoring them the lieutenant had nearly gotten 
a glass arm. A few days after we arrived in the St. Mihiel Sector, 
Johnson brought in several letters written by Coleman and himself. 
The Lieutenant was in a hurry. 

"Johnson," he said, "is there anything in your letters here that 
oughtn't to be in them?" 

"No, sir," replied Johnson. 

"Is there anything in Coleman's?" 

"I don't know, Lieutenant. I can't vouch for Coleman." 

He sealed the letters and affixed his signature, taking a chance. 
When Johnson got back to his billet and questioned Coleman con- 
cerning the matter, his buddy confessed that he had given the names 
of several towns in those letters, just so they would be struck out 
in censoring, and thus excite curiosity at home. 

Well, what's the diff? The war's over now! 



According to Beardsley, Private Lynn Rood holds the distinc- 
tive record of being the only man in the A. E. F. who has ever suc- 
ceeded in foundering himself on army rations. On the St. Mihiel 
Sector he threw up four pairs of old socks. 



As you know, our Skipper is a mounted man. At Bru his 
Uncle Sammy issued him a fine horse, somewhat undersized, but 
otherwise a beauty. At first the Skipper was simply infatuated with 
the animal. The Old Boy did present a snappy appearance as he 
dashed by his less fortunate comrades. 

Time went on until we landed in the Argonne. Here the noble 
steed began to wax lean and weak owing to lack of feed and over- 
work. Then, having traveled from the Argonne to the St. Mihiel 
Sector almost without oats, the Old War Horse was just about 
"finis." You could hang your hat on his hip-bones, the hay stuck 
right out through his ribs, his head and neck looked like grand-dad's 
salt gourd, and his hair stood on end like an army issue mule-brush. 
In other words, he was a "Darb." 

118 



While on this sector it was necessary for the Skipper to report 
to Brigade Headquarters near Essey, a distance of about one kilo- 
meter. He ordered the horse saddled. Soon all was ready and the 
Skipper mounted and started on his way. He rode just over the 
first knoll where he thought he would be well out of sight. Two 
buck-privates happened to be loafing in the foliage nearby. The 
Skipper dismounted, admired his own soldierly appearance, and 
then surveyed the poor ungainly horse. The Skipper is no expert 
judge of horses, but he realized the animal was slightly "off," so to 
speak. One of the buck privates heard him mutter, 'T'll be cussed 
if I let my superiors see me on that outfit !" 

He tied his war-horse to a telegraph pole and walked to his 
destination. On his return he mounted and rode into quarters, 
but made no remark. He did not know anyone had seen him. A 
few days later the old steed fell victim to Two Gun Slim Sylvia's 
automatic. Ever after, in France and Belgium, the Skipper hiked. 

— PVT. C. G. GREENLEAF. 



The new men from the 86th Division came to us at the Gully. 
Remember how sorry we felt for the poor dudes ? 



Bleeding France bled us of all our francs at Vignot ! 



A few of us suffered from stomach-ache after filling up on 
grapes at Boucq. 



Remember that rush of recurring feelings which came over you 
when that first long range shell burst in Essey? 



Homer Price and Johnson accompanied the Skipper on a trip 
to Eauvezin, a town about four kilometers from Essey. From 
Eauvezin they were sent on alone to find the First Battalion and 
get information regarding our lost train and kitchen and the possi- 
bility of securing rations for the company. This incident is men- 
tioned merely to call attention to the fact that we had it pretty soft 
in our snug little huts in the Gully. The First Battalion men were 
in pup-tents and wet dugouts in a woods accessible only by a ter- 
ribly muddy road. Conditions were almost as bad as on that never- 
to-be-forgotten night in the Argonne when we lay in the rain and 
mud on the shell-swept hills near Ivoiry. We didn't always get the 
dirty end of the stick, you see. 

119 



We drew clean underwear and socks at the Gully. The under- 
wear, you remember, was that known as "Cooties' Paradise." We 
had to use our extra shoelaces to tie it on and there was so much 
"slack" in the legs and seat that it gave a fellow a queer feeling. 



Old "Uncle Tom," whose real name we do not know, but who 
is a "Y" man who won a lasting place in our hearts, opened up a, 
canteen in the Gully for the special benefit of our company and the 
136th Machine Gun Battalion. It so happens that few of us had 
come in contact with him before, but he is well known to other out- 
fits of the division. He was on the job most of the time in the 
Baccarat Sector, and it was there that the boys learned to regard 
him as a friend and a man. Uncle Tom was always jovial and kind, 
and always "doing things," but with a modest and self-efifacing way 
about him. Many a man has gone to Uncle Tom's canteen when he 
was broke and received tobacco, cakes, and cigarettes with the as- 
surance that he need not worry about it. "Pay me when you can," 
said Uncle Tom. 

We saw him for the last time at the Gully, and by way of a 
farewell to us — he was going back to the States — he brought a huge 
supply of cookies, jam, milk, tobacco, chocolate and cigarettes, and 
sold each man all he wanted. We had just been paid, and for once 
we got our fill. 

Our hats are off to you, also, Uncle Tom ! 



Finally the Company received the Christmas Package Coupons 
we had heard so much about on Tuesday, October 15th. They were 
issued that day. Considering the slowness of the A. E. F. outgoing 
mail, it scarcely seemed worth while to send them home. According 
to the instructions, they had to be in the hands of our folks and the 
packages mailed by November 20th. 



The roads between Bouillonville and Thiacourt were harassed 
by shell fire. Coleman and Johnson, runners to Regimental Head- 
quarters, got lots of additional practice in shell-dodging on their 
numerous trips back and forth. 



The Red Cross operated a station in Bouillonville, which was 
open to runners at all hours of the night. They had "boo-coo" hot 
cocoa on tap and gave a man all he wanted ; a canteen full to carry 
away with him, too, if he cared to take it. The station also dis- 
tributed newspapers and magazines to the men and took care of sick 
and wounded. 

120 



The Colonel ordered the kitchens nearer the front line, so 
that the boys could have hot food in the trenches, and then raised 
Cain because the smoke drew shell-fire. 



Regimental Headquarters was in a densely wooded valley 
"beyond Thiacourt. The place was shelled constantly. One big fel- 
low lit on a shanty on the hillside, killing five runners and wounding 
three others seriously. 

We heard lots of peace rumors while we were in the Gully, but 
we had been cured of being credulous and jumping to conclusions 
by the fiasco at Juoy. 



From the Gully to Blenod-Les-Toul 

October i6th-Octobcr lyth 

Quite naturally, as we were moving, it rained. Leaving our 
cozy billets at 11 :30 p. m., Wednesday, October 16th, we hiked the 
muddy one kilometer to the loading point on the high road between 
Bouillonville and Essey. We were going on another truck trip. 

When we arrived on the scene we took our places in a rain- 
soaked field along with the hundreds of other men gathered there. 
The truck train was late. "J^st our luck !" we grumbled. We stood 
around in the rain and cold for three and a half hours before it did 
come. Then, after considerable confusion — each captain tried to 
get his men under cover first, it appeared — we were finally jammed 
into the trucks. Ordinary truck capacity is sixteen men; many 
of these trucks were packed ''to the scuppers" with twenty-two, 
twenty-four, and even as high as twenty-six men — nor were any 
extra trucks supplied for officers ; at least we know that the Skipper, 
Lieutenant Merriman, and Lieutenant Shultz were packed into one 
truck along with the rest of the men. 

The whole trip was an affair miserable enough, and few inci- 
dents worth mentioning occurred. We just philosophically endured 
the discomfort, or passed the time with jokes and exaggerated grum- 
bling — that privilege of the soldier — and, of course, the good old 
songs that were ever on our lips at such times. At 9 A. M. the next 
day we de-bussed at the town of Foug, having passed through Toul 
shortly before. 

There ensued a wait of about half an hour and then we formed 
up and started to hike. Now, it must be explained that, in spite of 
our week of comparitive ease and comfort in the Gully, we were by 
no means fully recuperated from the previous weeks of hard work. 

121 



The infantry, who had been on the front line at St. Mihiel, were 
worse off than we were. Our real need was a rest in a division rest 
camp. When a man has given all but the last ounce of his strength ; 
all but that last shred of endurance required to keep him on his feet 
and enable him to stagger, he has a tough time regaining his former 
ability to withstand the exhaustive effects of hiking and the attendant 
difficulties of active service — and our service had surely been con- 
stantly active since we had first entered the lines, as the reader will 
easily understand. In view of the above stated conditions, it is no 
wonder that the hike upon which we were entering reduced itself 
to a straggle before it was over. 

From Foug we doubled back towards Toul, but by other roads. 
We did not know why we had been taken beyond our final destina- 
tion and then forced to hike back — that was just another illustration 
of the incomprehensible methods of the army, we concluded, and 
seized upon it as a good subject to grouch about. A good soldier, 
you will find, invariably growls and grumbles about minor hardships, 
but put him in a battle and he never chirps. 

The hills around Toul are one vast vineyard of the white and 
blue grape. Hundreds of peasants were at work gathering in the 
crops and loading the funny tub wagons to the brim with the luscious 
fruit. The pickers filled the long deep wicker or wooden baskets, 
slung them on their backs as we sling our packs, and carried them 
to these strange vehicles, which had three cumbersome wheels, two 
in back and one in front, and a huge, deep, wooden tub set upon 
their frames. The hills and valleys were a riot of colors — the green, 
yellow, blue, red and brown of the vineyards glowing in the bright 
sunlight, but softened by the deep mauve of the brush and dark 
green of the fir woods which crowned the heights. 

Before our exhaustion began to show itself we found these 
scenes very interesting. During the first rest periods we partially 
satisfied the demands of our stomachs with grapes and turnips, but 
after the first ten ''kilos" of hiking we were too much knocked out 
to bother. It was a case of flopping to the ground the instant the 
command, "Fall out to the right !" was given. It is harrowing 
enough to have to plug along under full pack for fifty minutes at a 
time when your knees begin to cave twenty minutes after you start, 
but combine that with a pace entirely too fast and lack of certain 
knowledge of destination and you have ''Hell repeated." It is 
doubly agravating to be told that the march is to be six or eight 
kilometers and then have it stretched to ten, then twelve, and then 
fifteen. Hope rises high as each town is entered and then dies 
down and flickers out as it becomes evident that "this ain't the 
town." 

122 



During the last five kilometers the men began falling out of 
ranks by the dozen; to straggle in hours later by twos and threes 
as their strength permitted. Due, possibly, to our bit of rest at the 
Gully, our company marched into Blenod-les-Toul intact. 

After reaching billets and ridding ourselves of our obnoxious 
loads, we rushed to the stores of the town in a mad race to secure 
eggs, meat, cheese, jam, bread — any kind of food that could be pro- 
cured. The flood passed in a whirl of feverish buying, and then, 
having stripped the shopkeepers of the bulk of their stock, we 
retired to back alleys and cooked our meals in our mess pans. Our 
kitchen, you see, was A W O L again! 



Blenod-Les-Toul 

October lyth-Octoher ipth 

Our sojourn at this village was very short. We were there 
only for the time required to assemble the division and secure 
transportation for the big move which was known to be coming. 
We knew that five days' ''travel rations" were being drawn, but we 
did not know where we were going. The future was veiled by the 
strictest secrecy. Of course, there were the usual rumors, but none 
of them could be given a plausible foundation — Russia, Italy, Rest 
Camp, Alsace-Lorraine, all came to life again. Another rumor, 
flouted as being absolutely foolish, was that we were going to Bel- 
gium. 

The town of Blenod-les-Toul contained no unusual points of 
interest, nor was it any different than the other small communities 
we had been in. We were billeted in the usual manner. We remem- 
ber the town as being a pleasant place, perhaps because we were 
not there long enough to tire of it. Our kitchen did not show up, 
so we were issued flour, bacon, steak, onions, sugar, salt, coffee, 
and "grease" for frying. Thus, most of our time was occupied with 
cooking individual means in our mess pans. 



Sergeant Jack Stimmel, gassed in the Argonne, returned to us 
at Blenod-les-Toul. Most of his time, he told us, had been spent 
in gadding about the country on a private sight-seeing tour. 



Speaking of the recent bid of the Huns for peace brings to mind 
James Russell Lowell in his "Bigelow Papers" : 

"Better that all our ships an' all their crews 
Should sink to rot in ocean's dreamless ooze, 

123 



Each torn flag wavin' challenge ez it went, 
An' each dumb gun a brave man's moniment, 
Than seek sech peace ez only cowards crave ; 
Give me the peace of dead men or of brave!" 

That's right, James ! 



Flapjacks leaped to popularity in the alleys of Blenod-les-Toul. 
Hamer Farrell was Chief Mixer of the Dough. Oh, boy ! weren't 
they the real article? Our cooks would swell up and burst with 
pride if they ever handed us flapjacks like those! 



The Skipper got in Dutch with his wife. Somebody wrote 
home, and his girl told another dame, who knew Mrs. Wedow, all 
about a certain incident. When Captain Wedow read his wife's 
letter a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead. It ran, in sub- 
stance, something like this : ". . . and now I hear that you have 
been riding over the roads of France in an automobile seated in a 
certain person's lap. Will you kindly explain such scandalous 
actions ?" 

The Skipper was tearing his hair, so to speak, when he came 
to this postscript: "That 'certain person' was Private Ray John- 
son." (The Captain rode from the Gully to Foug seated on that 
private's angular prayer bones, you see!) 



124 




Leaving Blenod-les-Toul at 4:30 P. M. we hiked ten kilometers 
to the rail head at Dongermain. As we loaded into the freight cars 
it begain to rain. Why not? We were moving! 

We will pass up this opportunity to discourse again on the sub- 
ject of French troop trains ; suffice it to say, we had as rotten a time 
as usual. Our route took us through Troyes, Nangis, and the out- 
skirts of Paris that night. That was as near as most of us ever got 
to that famous city, the goal of our hopes, when we came to France ; 
all we saw were rail lights and a broad expanse of shiny wet tracks. 
During the night we had indulged in wild dreams of a Rest Camp, 
but when we turned northwest from Paris that air castle was shat- 
tered. We were headed for Belgium ! 

At about 1 p. m. the following day we hit the seacoast near 
Boulogne, passing within sight of that port. Soon we began to see 
the old familiar barbed wire entanglements and trench systems — 
reserve lines of resistance. It was 7 o'clock, misty twilight, when 
we detrained in the most desolate spot we had ever* yet seen. We 
could not see much, it is true, in the failing light, but we saw just 
enough to cause our hearts to sink in despair. Everywhere — gray 
mud, debris, wire, old trenches, piles of shattered equipment, and a 
road teeming with men and vehicles. 

There was no confusion in the detraining and we quickly slung 
our packs and started to march out the road. We went only a few 
hundred yards and then turned into a side road, where we halted. 
There followed a wait of ten or fifteen minutes while billets were 
being sought amongst the dozens of dugouts, which, according to 
information, abounded in the vicinity. Pup tents were considered, 
and then abandoned, because of the irregularities in the land due 
to old shellfire. Sufficient dugouts were found after a careful search 
and we distributed ourselves in them by twos, threes and fours until 
all of us were under cover. 

125 




When we crawled into our little dug-outs the night before we 
were tired and depressed by the atmosphere of desolation that was 
so apparent in this land. The dug-outs, we found to our sorrow, 
were infested with trench rats and fleas, and were exceedingly damp 
and ill smelling. The rats awakened us frequently by scurrying 
over our bodies or by the racket they made trying to get at our 
reserve rations. The fleas bit us until some of the fellows were well 
nigh distracted. Such conditions did not tend to improve our tem- 
pers, and when, in the morning, we emerged from our holes in the 
earth, we were very much cast down by the prospect that greeted us. 

The land, before the war, must have been flat or gently rolling, 
for a broad view could easily be had from any of the many little 
knolls. From such a vantage point all that could be seen was a sea 
of grass, sprinkled with old watery shell holes and dotted with the 
low humped roofs of hundreds of little dug-outs. Old barbed wire 
lay in rusted tangles, tin cans abounded as in a city dump, frayed 
harness, splintered boards, twisted iron bars, and little piles of bat- 
tered shell cases were scattered far and wide. In the distance a 
string of dinky freight cars indicated the railroad, and on our right 
the passing trucks showed the roadway. ''What place can this be?" 
we wondered. 

We were not long finding out. At about 9 o'clock, after a con- 
siderable time spent in waiting on the roadside for Headquarters 
Company, we started to hike. According to our officers, the hike 
was to last all day and possibly into the night and would be about 
twenty-five kilometers in length. We had not progressed over a 
hundred vards when we saw a small sign at a crossroads — 
"YPRES." 



126 



We were now seeing what all the world has read about and 
shuddered over; a city razed from the face of the earth, the monu- 
ment of complete, utter, irreclaimable ruin to the spirit of the Hun- 
the place where Britain had hung on for four long years of misery 
her men giving their lives in countless thousands and suffering un- 
speakable tortures that the bulldog grip might never loosen,- the 
stronghold that had saved the last remnant of King Albert's brave 
kingdom, enabling his little army, in the last months of the war to 
begin the turning movement that freed the sea coast cities of BruWs 
and Zeebrugge and helped roll the Huns back into Germany This 
was \pres and The Salient; the burial ground of the famous Cana- 
dian Princess Pat" Regiment, and the scene of that first gas attack 
which so dumfounded and sickened the world. 

No writer has exaggerated in his description of this famous 
place. To exaggerate is an impossibility, for no adequate words 
exist which could possibly convey a picture of such a ravaged land 
We relapsed into stunned silence as the line of march opened new 
vistas of the vast waste, or, vainly attempting to throw of? the 
depressing atmosphere that pervaded us, chattered garrulously to 
one another. 

The road we followed was slimy with mud— Flanders mud. 
It wound tortuously between single rows of dead, shell-splintered 
poplars which had been stripped of their branches and cut off with 
surprising regularity at an average height of eight or ten feet, leav- 
ing only the stumps, some of which were sprouting anew since the 
tide of battle had been rolled back. 

On each side the terrain was pock-marked with countless shell- 
holes ; shell-holes, old and new, were crowded together until their 
very rims lapped or merged with others. Not a single square foot 
of land had escaped. All was one great convulsion. The old holes 
were grown over by long grasses and wild weeds ; the newer ones 
looked like big scars in the yellow earth. Every one, old or new, 
was filled with water, due to the nearness of the country to sea level 
This was one of the conditions that helped make more difficult the 
task of holding Ypres. Trenches had to be built up and bulwarked 
with sand bags instead of being dug in the ground, and even then 
they filled with water. 

Barbed wire entanglements made a labyrinth on every side; 
tin cans and rubbish were strewn along the roadside ; water-soaked 
piles of lumber lay rotting by the ditches. We saw the fluttering 
skeletons of aeroplanes; tangled masses of torn varnished cloth, 
splintered framework, and bent wheels from which the engines, 
instruments and other vital parts had been removed, leaving them' 
like the flimsy, decayed carcasses of flies caught and gutted by 
spiders. Here and there we came upon the rusting remains of huge 



127 



tanks, which gave us visions of the whistling shells that had struck 
them, rending their very bowels, and killing or wounding their occu- 
pants. Like the planes, they had been stripped of all vital gear, 
shunted aside, and left to crumble away. 

At all crossroads, as we entered the land which the Germans 
had abandoned in their retreat, we had to make detours over newly 
built wooden bridges. The crossings had been blown up by mines, 
and in their huge craters, filled deep with water, the bodies of dead 
horses had been thrown. Some of them were minus legs or heads, 
and strips of skin, partially torn from the carcasses, floated up 
toward the surface, the bare flesh, thus exposed, w^hite from the 
efifects of the water like the sickly color of a toad's belly. 

Perched mockingly upon a pile of boards we saw a human skull 
with bits of hair still upon it. Perhaps some Tommy, with perverted 
humor, had set it there for the eyes of passing thousands to look 
upon. Perhaps a German had left it to mock spitefully the con- 
querors. It surely appeared to us a most eloquent symbol of the 
land we were passing through, whose very atmosphere was death. 

Had we not been so much occupied with these thousand interest- 
ing, yet repulsive, sights, we might have found plenty of food for 
grumbling. The road was rocky, uneven, and a slough of mud, our 
packs were becoming exceedingly irksome, and we were ravenously 
hungry, having had for breakfast what little hardtack and bully we 
had saved from the train. Around 1 o'clock in the afternoon we 
halted and had a slender meal. At 3 we pushed on. 

The land now took on a subtle change ; the shell-holes and other 
signs of devastation began to disappear. We saw a few open un- 
touched fields, and many of the trees were quite whole. The road, 
too, was improving. Darkness settled gradually. We began to see 
the flare of fires against the sky and the beams of many tiny lights 
far ahead. Then, slowly taking shape in the gloom, we saw the 
dusky outlines of a house. The sight of a human habitation, although 
apparently untenanted, sent a revulsion of feeling over us that swept 
away the depression of dead Yypres. We became cheerful and light- 
hearted once more. 

The house proved to be at a crossroads, and by the light from 
a truck standing nearby, we read several signs. The name of the 
crossroads was Sleyhaege ; another sign pointed northeast to Hoog- 
lede ; another gave direction to Roulers, slightly to the south of east ; 
the fourth gave the road southwest to Yypres, over which we had 
come; the last pointed westward to Staden. Our column turned 
toward that town. 

Along the road to Staden we passed other troops of our divi- 
sion who were encamped in pup tents in the fields. It was the fires 

128 



of their kitchens and the lights of candles in the tents which we had 
seen from the other road. The front, evidently, must be still far 
away. We went on for a distance of two kilometers and then 
pitched pup tents in a similar place, only five hundred yards from 
Staden. It was impossible to procure billets for us that night, but 
we did not mind sleeping in the open. 



Staden 

October 2^d-Octoher 26th 

After having breakfasted on rice, syrup, bread and coffee at 
Headquarters Company kitchen — we were still without ours— wx 
laid our equipment in the sun to dry, for the dew had been par- 
ticularly heavy that night. Meanwhile we washed and shaved and 
cleaned up as much as possible. Just before noon we rolled our 
packs and moved to billets in the shattered town of Staden. 

Staden, the first Belgian town we were in, was ruined almost 
beyond repair by shellfire and deliberate dynamiting. The great 
high-vaulted cathedral was a mere skeleton, the roofs and walls of 
all the large buildings had been caved in, and the smaller dwellings 
were similarly knocked to pieces. As there were only one or two 
places whose roofs had escaped, temporary roofs of old boards had 
been constructed to shelter troops, and to these places we went. 

The most noticeable feature of Staden was the fact that all the 
buildings, even the very smallest, were built of red brick. In France 
we had become so used to seeing houses of stone that this seemed 
quite strange. The railroad at Staden was a mass of broken ties 
and twisted steel rails; the task of rebuilding it would be enormous. 
Strangely enough, the station had been spared by the retreating 
Huns. It was the only whole building in town. 

We were at Staden only two and a half days. There w^as little 
else to do the first afternoon but clean up ourselves, our clothing and 
our equipment. Another kitchen was finally secured, but being on 
French rations, we fared rather poorly. Our lately acquired art of 
flapjack baking came to our assistance, and having secured flour, 
bacon fat, baking powder, sugar, coffee, and even canned milk, by 
hook or crook, it must be admitted, from a ration dump nearby, we 
managed to maintain tight belts. 

Now that all this is gone and past, it must be said, in justice 
to the few men who might have been suspected of carrying on such 
nefarious practices, that the sin of "hooking" the ingredients for 
flapjacks was universal. Those who didn't hook the stuff helped 
eat the finished article, knowing full well whence it came. Nor were 
these nocturnal raids on ration dumps confined to our company 



129 



alone; this being borne out by the fact several fights with men of 
the other companies occurred, they also being bent on having flap- 
jacks, and none of us hesitating to quarrel over the spoils. 

During the two full days we were in this town we worked on 
the gun carts, machine guns, tripods, and other equipment, cleaning, 
polishing and oiling them until they shone with proper brightness. 
Gas masks and helmets were carefully marked. We were given 
severe lectures on care and preservation of equipment and clothing. 
Being now isolated from the rest of the A. E. F. we could not pro- 
cure supplies in plenty. We were about to go into another big 
drive, so we were told ; another reason for bracing ourselves up. 
As is the habit of soldiers, we flouted the advice among ourselves, 
but nevertheless quietly went about doing the things we had been 
advised to do. That's human contrariness ! 



Lichtervelde 

October 26th-Octoher 28th 

Leaving Staden at about 8 :00 a. m. on Saturday, we hiked six- 
teen kilometers to Lichtervelde, passing through the small town of 
St. Joseph. The country through which we passed had been cleared 
of the Germans only a few days, and had been left in pretty good 
condition. Flanders was proving to be much different than we had 
expected. This was a land of small farms. Scattered far and wide 
were little, one-story, low, red-brick houses, thatched with grass or 
roofed with tile, and surrounded by barns and strawstacks. At this 
season of the year most of the land was devoted to turnips ; indeed, 
the country was a vast, bright-green sea of turnip-tops. Everything 
impressed us as being well-ordered and scrupulously clean. 

The civilians we saw were bright, jolly, and intelligent, and 
simply went wild over us. We were the first body of American 
troops in Flanders, and the first these people had ever seen. Many 
of them could speak German, and they told us that they had at first 
thought we were British, because the Germans had told them the 
Americans would never come. Their joy and hearty welcome were 
pleasing, yet very pathetic. They were boundlessly happy at their 
release from captivity, and seemed to care not a straw for former, 
present, or future troubles. To them, we were a band of heroes, 
come to bring retribution upon the Hun and free the rest of Belgium. 
They told us that for several days the Germans had held out in 
strong positions back of the Lys River and could not be dislodged. 
Their faith that we could and would drive them from this strong- 
hold was as inspiring as it was touching. Here, we decided, were a 
people worth fighting for. 

130 



At one place where we halted something happened which we had 
never experienced in France. The children came running out with 
water and carefully washed turnips for us to eat. One woman brewed 
pot after pot of coffee, exhausting her meager supply that we might 
have it. To refuse hurt their feelings, and they declined to accept 
money. We compromised by giving that to the children. Another 
woman brought out two buckets of precious milk and sold it to us 
at an absurdly low price. It must be remembered that cows were 
scarce. Most of the cattle and horses had been driven away or 
butchered by the retreating enemy. The eager kindness of these 
people touched us to the very depths of our hearts. They offered 
us everything they had, expecting no return and asking nothing. 
Of course, we were to find out later that there were mercenary 
people in every land, but that does not affect our whole-hearted, gen- 
uine affection for the Belgians as a people. 

When we arrived in Lichtervelde we were welcomed enthusi- 
astically and were billeted in barracks abandoned by the Germans. 

Next morning, Sunday, we had a formation for an inspection 
of gas masks and helmets, followed by policing of quarters, which 
had been left in a very dirty condition. During the rest of the day 
we were free. The majority of us scattered through the town and 
surrounding country in search of articles of food — French rations 
were simply not enough for us. About all we could get was a meager 
supply of milk and bread. It was here that we first encountered 
the solid, brown, bran-bread of Belgium. A loaf of it was as solid 
and heavy as rock, and encased in a tough crust. The inside looked 
like baked sawdust. We soon learned to like it immensely, however, 
and preferred it by far to the tasteless French army bread that we 
were receiving. 

We found Lichtervelde to be scarcely touched with the excep- 
tion of the railroad, which was torn up even worse than it was at 
Staden. The French already had German prisoners at work upon 
it here. The town was decked in Allied flags and a few stores were 
open. Very little liquor, aside from a poor grade of beer, could be 
procured. During the day we discovered wooden bunks in a Ger- 
man military hospital and carried many of them to our barracks. 
Our labor brought very little reward, for we moved out the following 
morning. 

Thielt 

October 28th-Octoher ^oth 

On Monday, October 28th, we were routed out at 5 :30 a. m. 

to roll our packs for another move. Breakfast over, we fell in at 

7 o'clock and moved out with the rest of the regiment. It was a 

bright sunshiny day and we were in fine spirits, although, to be 

131 



truthful, it must be said that we indulged in a good deal of cussing 
of the Belgian roads. They were a new type to us and were already 
beginning to get our feet. These roads are the worst drawback to 
soldiering in Belgium ; built of old, worn cobblestones between 
which are wide interstices, and usually covered with a slime of thin 
mud, they cause the feet to slip and the legs to strain unduly hard 
in order to balance the weight of the body. One's feet are contin- 
ually slipping, at toe or heel, into the wide crevices, and nothing so 
enhances the difficulty of marching and maintaining a steady pace as 
an unstable footing. 

Passing through Goolscamp and Pitthem, good sized towns, we 
made Thielt, our destination, by 11:30 a. m., and were quartered 
in a great, unfinished, brick convent. 

Thielt, a flourishing town of twelve thousand before the war, 
is the largest town in which we have ever been billeted. It contains 
many shops and stores, all of which were exceedingly well stocked 
when we arrived. The place was left undamaged by the enemy with 
the exception of the little bit done by shellfire as the Allies were 
occupying it. The people flocked along our line of march and gave 
us a glad welcome. Probably no American flags were procurable — 
they had not expected us, anyhow — but the streets were hanging 
full of Belgian, French and English banners, and the people made 
up in kindness what they lacked in that sort of demonstration. 

The huge convent in which we were quartered had ample room 
for the entire regiment. It had been used for troops by the Ger- 
mans to a small extent, but the greater part had been evidently a 
military hospital. Great care had to be taken regarding the showing 
of lights, as enemy planes bombed the vicinity several times while we 
were there. 

There was an observation tower which the Germans had built 
on the roof of the building. The tower was boxed by a flat railing 
on which arrows had been burnt into the wood, pointing the direc- 
tion and giving the distance in kilometers to various outlying towns. 
There was also a steel range card on which were engraved the direc- 
tions and ranges to certain towns and points of strategical interest. 
The view of the flat surrounding country was wonderful ; no less 
than twenty-four windmills could be seen, and the farmhouses were 
so numerous that the entire land looked like an enormous red-roofed 
city. It was easy to realize that Belgium was the most densely pop- 
ulated nation of Europe. 

Behind the convent, which was on the very edge of the town, 
was a former German aviation field, now converted to the uses of 
the French. From this spot French planes made numerous trips 
at all hours of the day and night to the front. 

132 



We were totally ignorant as to the actual distance to the front 
from Thielt ; most of us believed it to be at least thirty kilometers, as 
only occasional faint cannonading could be heard. Therefore, when 
the rumor came that we were going over the top in a drive on the 
thirty-first, only a day or so away, we scoffed at the idea. "Why," 
we said, "we are scarcely well enough equipped and our new men 
know nothing about machine guns !" 



One of the expressions which has stuck in our minds is the 
first one we learned in Belgium : "All iss ka-poot by der Dutch !" It 
corresponds to that abominable French remark : "Fineesh !" 

If you asked to buy milk they replied, "All iss ka-poot." If 
you asked for butter, "All if ka-poot." And if you asked for any- 
thing and they failed to understand you, they invariably took refuge 
in the same reply, "All iss ka-poot !" 



Even the mademoiselles were ka-poot, by heck ! 



One or two little incidents of the many that occurred will serve 
to illustrate the kindness of the people and their desire to please us. 



As we were marching through the town, and had almost reached 
the convent, a runner of Headquarters Platoon was dropped off at 
a street corner to meet and guide the kitchen. An old woman beck- 
oned to him from a doorway and insisted that he come inside. He 
stood in the entry to please her, and unnoticed by him, she prepared 
coffee and a plate of bread and jelly. He tried to refuse when she 
brought it to him, but she was not to be denied — besides, jelly is 
tempting to the palate of a soldier. Her obvious contentment and 
happiness as she watched him eat and drink, the soldier says, made 
him think of home and his mother. 

Later in the day two men tried to buy bread at another place. 
The old man had none to sell, but he actually pushed them, though 
they protested, into another room and made them partake of bread, 
butter and coffee before permitting them to go. 



More than one of us got an unwelcome addition to our stock 
of experience when we were in the German barracks at Lichtervelde. 
German fleas and cooties started new and speedily flourishing colo- 
nies in our shirts ! 

The damned things are such sociable vermin ! Once they force 
their friendship upon you they are untiring in their misguided dem- 

133 



onstrations of affection. No doubt we were better fare than their 
former hosts. Even a flea or a coot can be particular about his meals. 

Wee! Ya! Nein! Fineesh! Ka-poot! What next! 

The kitchens of the regiment were nearly mobbed by ill-clad 
men, women and children when they began to give them the left- 
overs and the soup bones from quarters of beef. 



134 



riR5Ti^rrE>i3iVE 

IN rLANDERS 



_^Tlpw^ amtTnn ^^^^ rf^m^^ca ^;i:mn^ -- t^fnffiP' -==-^ ^=s-^ 




October ^ist-Novemher ^th 

We had expected to stay in Thielt for some time, but these 
dreams received a rude jolt when, on Wednesday morning, the 
thirtieth, we received orders to be in readiness to move out by 4 :30 
p. m. At that hour we formed our column, and, leaving Thielt by 
the road leading southeast to Denterghem, reached a crossroads 
near the Lys River, one kilometer from the town of Olsene. We 
had hiked about fifteen kilometers. 

Here, Sergeant Bernard Roney, who had preceded us to pro- 
cure billets, met the company with the information that Olsene was 
being bombarded by the enemy with such vigor that to enter the 
streets of the town would be suicidal. Indeed, it was easy to con- 
firm his statement, for at that very moment the Germans let loose 
a heavy strafe, and for the past hour we had been aware of the 
sound of cannonading, steadily increasing as we approached. Roney 
had found a place for the night on the outskirts of the town. He 
declared it was bad enough, but the quietest place that could be 
found. 

Led by Roney, we turned up the road to the right for a dis- 
tance of a hundred yards, and then to the left, down a narrow 
hedged lane, to the bank of the swift flowing Lys river. Here we 
were held up for over twenty minutes by the congestion of traffic 
pouring over a narrow pontoon bridge. The wagons and kitchens 
of Headquarters and our own company went over, one at a time. 
Once they were held up by a stream of French artillery caissons, 
each drawn by six horses, which were racing to the ammunition 
dumps in the rear for a fresh supply of shells. Meanwhile, a very 
steady and wicked bombardment was going on. Hundreds of shells 
were tearing up the ground only fifty yards beyond the opposite 
bank. From the sound of heavier shelling on our left we knew that 

135 



Olsene was catching it, too. Had the Germans raised their range 
suddenly by seventy yards they could have wreaked havoc among 
us as we lay waiting to cross the stream. 

Our wagons and carts having gone over, we in our turn poured 
across. The frail bridge swayed with the current underneath. When 
we regained close formation on the opposite bank we followed a 
newly made trail right on the edge of the river and quickly passed 
the laboring teams and wagons, whose progress was hindered by 
the innumerable shell-holes in the path. A Headquarters company 
wagon slithered over the bank, nearly dragging horses and driver 
with it, and its entire load of records and stationery supplies were 
sunk in the water. Runners were posted at every dangerous shell- 
hole we passed to warn our kitchen and combat wagon, struggling 
along behind us. 

We had gone only a short distance when the smell of noxious 
gas began to irritate our noses, throats, and eyes. The further we 
went the worse this condition became; the atmosphere was charged 
with the acrid fumes of H. E. gas, the fumes from ordinary high 
explosive shells. It is not unlikely that tear-gas and small quantities 
of mustard gas were present also, for the water ran from our eyes, 
half blinding us, and our throats and nasal passages smarted un- 
bearably. We clapped on our gas masks, but as progress was im- 
possible in the darkness because of our inability to see through the 
eye-pieces, most of us merely clipped our noses and drew air through 
the mouthpiece, allowing the fabric of the masks to hang down. 

Finally the officers came back and led us to a nearby house, 
the yard of which was enclosed by a high hedge. The house itself 
was half ruined and littered with bricks, fallen plaster, old clothing, 
and broken furniture. The majority of the men made their beds 
in the open along the hedge. Our mules and carts were placed in 
the enclosure also, but the kitchen and wagons drew up behind the 
house. 

We were extremely tired, and slept soundly in spite of the con- 
stant shelling and flying shrapnel. Our rest was brief. At 4:30 
A. M. we were aroused and ordered to make light packs and prepare 
to go over the top at 5 :30. 

Shortly before the zero hour we drew up, — mules, carts and 
all, — on the road behind the Courtrai-Ghent railroad, where our 

136 




front line lay. We were in the support line, only fifty yards from 

the place where we spent the 

night. Just as we halted a 

whizz-bang exploded at the 

roadside with a brilliant flash. 

We hastened to unload our guns 

and equipment, and deployed 

along the ditches and in the 

shell-holes. The mules and 

carts went back. 

Just as dawn came, the 
French artillery supporting us 
let loose a terrific barrage and 

we started over. Jerry immediately poured upon us the most wicked 
concentration of H. E. and shrapnel we had ever experienced. Many 
men fell before they had gone twenty feet. It was a new kind of 
fighting. Instead of the wild Argonne forest and brush we plunged 
past little farmhouses, fought from strawstack to strawstack, surged 
down narrow lanes and roads, and forced our way forward through 
endless turnip patches. The country was generally flat, broken at 
intervals by low ridges, and offered no shelter, while the enemy took 
advantage of the high ground and swept our line with machine gun 
crossfire. He had machine gun nests in strawstacks, hedges, and 
houses, and knew how to use them. His artillery pounded us with 
fearful accuracy. 

Under the leadership of dauntless Lieutenant Merriman, our 
company soon found itself with the first wave of infantry, and there 
we stayed. Nest after nest was surrounded and captured, and the 
prisoners streamed back. Soon we saw a strange sight. Civilians, — 
Belgian women, children, and old men, — emerged from cellars and 
bombproofs as the battle line passed their homes. They threw them- 
selves upon us, hugged us, kissed us, and cried hysterically. There 
were women with bloody bandages around their heads, babes and 
children with bodies lacerated, and old men, too ; all wounded by 
shrapnel or shellfire. They had stuck to their homes through the 
entire shock of battle, waiting for deliverance. Searching for Ger- 
mans in every home, we found more of these poor refugees, seriously 
wounded or dead, and sent those who were still living on stretchers 
to the field hospitals. 

Maddened by these sights we plunged forward in a whirlwind 
advance and swept the enemy back to Cruyshautem Ridge. Here 
they reorganized and we were forced to dig and remain all after- 
noon and night, under harassing shell and machine gun fire and gas 
attacks, until the morning of the next day, awaiting the aid of the 
artillery. Ration details brought up sandwiches through the heavy 
bombardment of our lines of communication, and we supplemented 

137 



these with turnips from the field around us. The soil at the base of 
the ridge was of soft texture, and we found it an easy job to dig in. 
Straw from the many strawstacks nearby was secured after dark, and 
filling our ''fox-holes" with this we buried ourselves and slept warm. 

The general line of the division's advance was southeast along 
the main road from Olsene to Audenarde. We were working with 
King Albert's Belgian Army for the relief of Ghent, or ''Gand," as 
it is called by the Belgians. 

Our regiment, at the end of the first day, had driven the enemy 
approximately four kilometers and were near Cruyshautem. Next 
morning we went over again behind a brief barrage and outflanked 
the machine gun nests. Our line swept over the ridge and Cruyshau- 
tem fell into our hands. During the night the Germans had with- 
drawn their main body, leaving only a few machine guns to guard 
their rear. From Cruyshautem on to the Scheldt we rambled mer- 
rily forward. Scarcely a single burst of shrapnel hindered us, and 
we had to reduce only one machine gun nest. That was done with 
the aid of French armored cars. The country was so flat that we 
could easily see the French infantry who were co-operating with us 
on the flanks. The sun shone gloriously and we sang and whistled as 
we tramped on. At times we even forgot that we were in a drive ! 

Shortly after noon we mounted a low grassy rise over which we 
had caught a glimpse of a church spire and an unusually high ridge 
beyond. When we reached the crest we saw before us the town of 
Eyne, on the banks of the Scheldt, and beyond was the high, dom- 
inating ridge. 

Still in our cheerful, cocky mood, we entered the village. The 
civilians met us in crowds, waving Belgian flags, and giving us wine 
and beer. We crossed a high-banked railroad, and a parallel road, 
and streamed out upon the river flats. At a point one hundred yards 
from the river we came upon a wide ditch, deep with water. A ford 
of stones near the junction of another and narrower ditch caught 
our eyes and we concentrated unsuspectingly to make a crossing. 

Up to this point not a shot had been fired. Suddenly, without 
the slightest warning, a terrific cross machine gun barrage poured in 
upon us. We rushed to cover in the ditches, men falling right and 
left, riddled by bullets. No sooner had we got into the ditches than 
the enemy, on the high ground across the river, opened up on us with 
direct fire of whizz-bangs, seventy-sevens, and one-pounders. The 
slaughter, especially among the infantrymen, was terrible. With the 
heavy machine guns, tripods and ammunition boxes on our hands, we 
were in "a devil of a fix." We hung on for several minutes and then 
an order was shouted to retire. Crawling on our hands and knees 
back up tributary ditches and spurting along the open road we finally 

138 



extricated ourselves and withdrew to the town to reorganize and take 
up defensive positions. 

Company Headquarters was estabHshed in a house on the out- 
skirts of Eyne, from which a view of the railroad and the hill across 
the river could be obtained. Audenarde, the objective of the Ninety- 
first Division, the other American division in the drive, could be seen 
up the river to the right, about three kilometers distant. The enemy 
shelled Eyne constantly and, due to the absence of Allied aircraft, 
their planes, flying low, harassed us with bombs and machine gun 
fire. Several times these planes swooped over the courtyard of our 
headquarters and splintered the stones with bursts of bullets. 

When night came positions were taken up behind the high rail- 
road bank in houses from which we could protect the flanks of the 
infantry with our guns. Then we settled down to the nerve-racking 
job of hanging on under fire until the Engineers could get a pontoon 
bridge across. It was distinctly understood that if they failed, we 
would swim the river under fire. 

Early the next morning, November 2nd, a small body of men 
succeeded in swimming the river, and laboring under hot machine 
gun fire and shrapnel, threw a foot-bridge across by fastening tree 
trunks end to end. Many of our boys died or were seriously wounded 
in attempting to get over, but late that afternoon a total of fifty-two 
were on the other side and thus a foothold was established. Men 
crept over that night, one at a time, during lulls in the frantic German 
fire. Next day the contest for the river continued. The enemy be- 
came desperate and their planes circled and dove head-on, sending 
showers of machine gun bullets along the stream and bombing at 
close range. 

The German efforts were of no avail ; the engineers succeeded, 
after three attempts, in getting a pontoon bridge in place near 
Heurne. By nightfall over nine companies of infantry and four of 
machine guns were dug in on the opposite side. They held that foot- 
ing in spite of counter attacks, resisting all efforts to dislodge them. 

On November 4th, our objective, the establishing of a bridge- 
head over the Scheldt, having been accomplished, we were relieved 
by French troops, although a portion of the division did not get out 
until the 5th. We were the first and only Allied troops to cross and 
establish ourselves on the other side of that famous river. 



139 




Stories of the Belgium Drive 

On the second day, when we ran into the machine gun nests and 
artillery fire at the Scheldt, our squad was sure having a lively time 
of it. To escape, we flopped flat along a shallow ditch filled with 
water. Private Siem, who wears 11 1-2 shoes, was lying close to me. 
A large piece of shrapnel came flying through the air and buried 
itself in the ground near his feet. It scared him and he stuck his feet 
into the ditch. 

"Take your feet out of the water, Siem, — they'll get wet!" I 
said. 

Siem studied a moment, and then replied : 

"Well, what in hell else will I do with them !" 

—CORP. JOSEPH HERMAN. 



Private Oscar Rotenberg sends us this one : 

"One day, on October 30th, we started on hike from Thielt, Bel- 
gium. We hike along until we cross the Lys river on a platoon 
bridge. When we cross the river I hear a noise about gas. I start 
to smell because when I was in Camp Grant they told me when I 
get one smell of gas I will get killed. I had about 150 smells of that 
gas and I never got killed. About 3:00 o'clock in the morning I 
hear a voice all machine gunners fall on their carts. I obey the order 

140 



and when we unload them I grab my two boxes of ammunition and 
followed my corporal looking for the top. I hear some things sing- 
ing around and everybody drops in a shell-hole and so do I and start 
to wait when I am going to die. When I was in the 161st Depot 
Brigade I was transferred to machine gun. The fellows told me 
that a machine gunner's life going over the top is 1 1-2 seconds. I 
looked at my watch 30 seconds and still I was a life, and I never got 
killed at all in the drive so I think they was all damn liars !" 

You tell 'em, Oscar ! 



A Bit of Doggerel ! 

As I lay beside a hay-mound, 

Listening to that awful sound, 

The roar of the cannon and shrapnel shell, 

Splitting the air like a message from hell. 

It was Hallowe'en Eve and I'll never forget, 

Lying there in deep regret. 

Thinking of pie and puddings of plum, — 

You see, for supper, I had nothing but slum, — 

Thinking of home and how nice 'twould be 

If only I was in that land o'er the sea. 

I would eat pumpkin pie 'til I had my fill, 

And mother, I knew, would charge no bill. 

But I slept very sound that chilly night, 

As a tired soldier will, after a hike, 

I was roused from my slumber at four o'clock, 

A voice said, "Get up. We go over the top ! 

Haul your ashes ! Make a short pack ! 

Soon you'll hear our machine guns crack !" 

At five o'clock the Froggie artill'ry, 

Let loose a barrage that knocked the Huns silly. 

Over the fields the Yanks did charge. 

Paying no heed to the German barrage. 

Yelling, "Jerry, you had better retreat. 

For we are an army that knows no defeat !" 

— PVT. VOLNEY L. RICE. 



A few hours after we went over the top our kitchen was blown 
full of holes by shrapnel and all the boilers were ruined. Now ain't 
that a hell of a note ? We surely had hard luck with kitchens. 



Lieutenant Merriman was wounded on the afternoon of Novem- 
ber 2nd, at the Scheldt river. He and Private Lowry, a Headquar- 
ters Platoon runner, had been out beyond the railroad where the 



141 



Lieutenant had done some reconnoitering. Shrapnel or a shell frag- 
ment broke a finger and wounded him severely in the thigh, disabling 
him. It proved to be his "Blighty" wound, for he went home a 
couple of months later. Merry was a man with "all kinds of guts" 
and we were surely sorry to lose him. 



Joe Rock says : "The civilians were awaiting us at the entrance 
of the town with Belgian colors waving to pay us a tribute. They 
wanted us to stop and have a drink, but it seemed we didn't have 
time to celebrate. And I ain't had a free drink since I left home !" 



"On the first day out," says Hal Davis, "we ran into a part of 
the enemy barrage and what we thought was a gas shell exploded 
near us. The whole squad put on their masks. After a few mo- 
ments Snake Eye Preston took his off and looked at me as though 
to say, 'Keep yours on, you damn fool, if you want to! But after 
he had taken three or four breaths, a horrified expression came to 
his face and he got his mask on toot-sweet ! I laughed a sepulchral 
laugh, and Preston, I suppose, cussed me, but all I could hear was, 
*Blub, blub, glub, ub, blub !' " 



"A helmet ain't worth a damn," said Beardsley. 

"Who said the helmet's no good," cried Kaufman. "If the hel- 
met wasn't no good I wouldn't be here to tell you about it, and if it 
ain't no good why did they make 'em ?" 

Well, well, Kaufman, you don't say so! 



Stellato was telling a story. 

" and this guy got excited and said, 'We'd better 

go to the rear,' but I said, 'No,' and convinced him by saying that if 
we went back we'd get shot in the rear." 

Slim Walters and Carl Munson were squeezed tightly together 
in a fox-hole. Slim had the cooties and created commotion every so 
often by turning over to take a whack at them. Just as regularly as 
Slim turned to battle cooties, Jerry would send over a shower of 
machine gun bullets. 

"It kept me busy warning him not to draw fire," says the humor- 
ous Private Munson. 



Perk was as hungry as a bear. A heavy bombardment had kept 
him in the cover of a shell-hole when we wanted to get out into the 
surrounding turnip field in the worst way. He was wailing dismally 



142 



about turnips when a close one, — darn close, — lit in the field and 
showered him with the coveted vegetables. 

*'It is a dispensation of Providence," said Perkinson, munching 
a nice white turnip. 

Milking goats was another accomplishment added to our long 
and varied list on the Belgian drive. First get two dudes to hold the 
goat, then get one to milk it. All participants should wear gas-masks. 

Private Homer Price was wounded in the left arm by shrapnel 
on the first day out, about two hours after the drive began. He was 
ordered to go back to dressing station, although he made light of the 
wound. After having his arm dressed, he refused to go to the hospi- 
tal and made his way up to the company. His arm grew worse, but 
he stuck with us throughout the drive. 

Actions speak louder than words ! 



Walter Lewis was wounded in the right arm by flying shrapnel 
just as the drive started. He was leading his mule back to the old 
house after his cart had been unloaded. He was the first casualty 
our company had in Flanders. 



Sergeant Paul Gusler, one of the best men ever in this com- 
pany, was killed instantly on the first morning of the drive, by the 
explosion of a shell which struck within three feet of him. Sergeant 
Gusler was leading his section out of hot shellfire when a high ve- 
locity shell, which came so quickly that he and his men could not 
dodge, landed in their midst. His record was one of high courage 
and constant devotion to duty, and his loss was a blow not only in 
a military sense, but also to his comrades, whose affections he had 
so completely won and deserved. 



Genner Carelli, one of the new men in the company, was struck 
on the first day out, by a six-inch shell-fragment. It hit his leg flat, 
and though it did not bring blood, bruised him severely. His leg 
swelled up to twice its normal size and he was unable to walk. Elmo 
Stults (also a new man) started after coffee at Eyne and ran foul of 
a piece of shrapnel. He got it in the left arm. 

Sergeant Stimmel was gassed, for the second time, in the Bel- 
gian Drive. 

Charles Albaugh was severely wounded in the knee by a frag- 
ment of the shell that killed Sergeant Gusler. When last heard from 

143 



he was in an English hospital, and it had been necessary to amputate 
his leg. The knowledge of his further misfortune fills us with regret. 
We can only pay him the tribute due a good and courageous comrade. 



Arthur Avery stopped a bit of shrapnel, on the first day out, 
near the Courtrai-Ghent railroad. It got him in his right arm. 



Lieutenant Merriman's idea of a good time was to stand up and 
look around during a machine gun barrage ! And if he saw shells 
lighting some distance away from him, he seemed to have a mis- 
guided idea that he ought to go over and see about it. Merry had 
more "guts" than a boa-constrictor ! 



Dick Dawson, one of the men who joined us just before we left 
for Camp Lee, was wounded while getting Corporal Albaugh to the 
dressing station. 



Melvin Wheeler, the brother of Lloyd, who died of wounds in 
the Argonne, came near to the fate of his brother on the first day of 
the Belgian Drive. While going up a ditch just beyond the Coutrai- 
Ghent railroad he was struck in the neck by a machine gun bullet. 
He fell, bleeding profusely, and was in a serious condition when he 
arrived at the hospital. 

Every one of us, — his old comrades, — wish to congratulate him 
upon his recovery. 



George Sierer was burnt severely by mustard gas. This was 
not the ordinary flim-flam gas which many men got just because 
they were sick of the war, and wanted to beat it for a while. This 
was the real thing. He got it in the vicinity of the pistol pocket. 
For particulars, see George. 



Prank Schanes, another of the men who joined us at St. Mihiel, 
was wounded in the side by a flying brick. He was coming back out 
of the Scheldt machine gun nests, and just as he rounded the corner 
of a house, a shell struck the corner and he was hit by one of the 
heavy bricks, which came flying in all directions. 



Ben Swihart, who has been a member of the company ever 
since the winter at Camp Sheridan, received a scalp wound at the 
Scheldt river. He was dashing across an open space and a machine 
gun bullet grazed his head. 



t^¥^^^%^^^^^^g«^<^^^^^^ 







144 



Meulebeke 

November ^th-Novemher pth 

On the night of November 4th, after a weary drag from Eyne, 
our company pulled into Olsene, the starting point of the drive, and 
went to the dilapidated old house where the blanket rolls were left. 
It was then almost midnight and the few hours until morning were 
devoted to rest and sleep. We cared not where we laid down. We 
w^anted sleep ! 

After breakfast the next morning we started on what proved to 
be a long, discouraging hike to the large town of Meulebeke, south of 
Thielt, arriving in that place at 2 :30 P. M. We were billeted with 
several other companies in a big dismantled factory, or machine- 
shop ; the roof was of the saw-tooth type and was fitted with sky- 
lights, a fact that caused us no end of trouble because we were for- 
bidden to have lights at night. We had them, but we were contin- 
ually ''catching hell" for it. The building was surrounded by a broad 
muddy courtyard, and the entire place was enclosed by a high wall, 
along which open sheds had been built. Under these sheds, along 
one side of the wall, were placed the kitchens, while the horses and 
mules were stabled on the far side. 

The city of Meulebeke, itself, was rather a drab, uninteresting 
place, containing large numbers of small stores, and many factories. 
It reminds us a great deal of the factory districts in cities at home. 
A Y. M. C. A. canteen and a U. S. Army commissary, however, were 
about the only things that attracted us to the center of town. Most 
of us remained in or about our billets, quite content to take advan- 
tage of a chance to rest. 

AA'hile we were at Meulebeke we were partially re-equipped and 
arrangements for bathing were made. We also had the good fortune 
to receive a flood of mail, our first in a long time, and any soldier will 
understand without further explanation the wonderful rise in spirits 
it produced. 



The first inkling of the capitulation of Austria reached our ears 
at Meulebeke. It illustrates the truth of the statement that a soldier 
on the very front line, in the thick of the fight, knows less about the 
situation than the folks at home. 



Leather vests, or jerkins, were issued at Meulebeke. We were 
overwhelmed with astonishment and joy at this evidence of munifi- 
cence on the part of our Uncle Sammv, — and then thev called them 
all in ! ' ' 



145 



Well, well, — that's like some men, and army kitchens, on a drive. 
Now you see 'em and now you don't ! 



In those letters we received were the first ripples of joy and sub- 
sequent disappointment caused by the peace rumor we heard back 
at Juoy, France. 



Chabala reports that he came to the company at Meulebeke with 
the seat of his breeches in such condition as to be scarcely presentable 
to ladies. We, on our part, retort that this company was no Ladies' 
Aid Society, and it wasn't our fault if he had to do his own mending. 



Chabala also says that Sergeant Fry put him on a detail, after 
asking him whose blouse he was wearing, and that he had to get the 
Top Buck to introduce him to convince Fry that he wasn't wearing 
some sergeant's stripes just to get out of details ! 



Cook Mooren — "Just received an order to feed fifteen more 
men at supper tonight. Where'll I get the extra eats ?" 

Mess Sergeant Byram — "Oh, just add a few handfuls of flour 
to the slum." 



Vujich was being teased by a few of the boys. Finally, in exas- 
peration he exclaimed : "Aw, lay down wid dose pops !" 



The French soldiers insisted that Germany was going to sign 
an armistice and that the war would be over in a few days. We 
merely scoffed at them, but can you blame us for being incredulous 
after that previous disappointment? 



It was at Meulebeke that we were outfitted with those unspeak- 
able, flat-footed English shoes. 




146 



SECOND. FUNDEBs 



— ^^tir^ 



November pth-November nth 

On the morning of Saturday, November 9th, we were notified 
to be ready to leave for the front at 1 :00 P. M. We had heard 
rumors of another drive, but as the regiment, together with the 
148th Infantry, had borne the brunt of the first drive and had been 
badly cut up, we concluded that we would be put in the division 
support-line this time, and so the news disturbed us very little. The 
other two infantry regiments were probably to get their turn now. 
This surmise proved correct, as we discovered that they had preceded 
us the day before. 

We left Meulebeke at 2:30 p. m. by the road leading east to 
Denterghem. Shortly afterward we turned off at right angles and, 
having progressed possibly three or four kilos we noticed a column of 
troops going in the opposite direction on another road a short dis- 
tance cross-country. "Lucky dogs!" we thought. ''You're going 
back." A few hundred yards further on we came to a town and 
great was our surprise when we turned a few corners and found our- 
selves on the same road on which we had seen the other troops. 
Then it dawned upon us that we had seen the head of our own col- 
umn, just as we could now see the tail-end dragging into the village. 
We were mystified. *'Gosh!" one private exclaimed, "maybe the 
war's over and we're going back to Meulebeke." Few of us were 
that optimistic, but it was evident that something was wrong. We 
were not long in finding out, for fifteen or twenty minutes later we 
turned into the Denterghem road once more at a point which we 
saw was only two kilometers from Meulebeke. Someone had made 
an error and taken the wrong road, we concluded bitterly, and we 
had suffered for it. (We found out later the explanation was that 
a French traffic officer had declared the road to be a one-way road, 
and forced us to make the detour.) At the time we could only see 
the fact that for some reason or other we had hiked five unnecessary 
kilometers and the further we went the more the injustice rankled. 

147 



That extra five kilos had a terrible effect, equipped, as most of 
us were, with the new English shoe. When we turned off near Den- 
terghem in the direction of Deynze we began to '*cuss" in earnest. 
By the time we straggled into Deynze we were too worn and weak 
and footsore even to do that. We had marched twenty-five kilo- 
meters, and dozens of us found our socks stiff with blood and the 
soles of our feet raw, when we finally got into billets in a big granary 
on the bank of the Lys. 

It was 9 :30 when we reached those billets in Deynze. We hur- 
riedly threw down blankets on the meal-sacks and fell asleep, "caring 
not a damn" whether we were in reserve or on the front. As a mat- 
ter of fact we were in division reserve and only two kilometers from 
the front line, — within easy shell-range, as was indicated by the occa- 
sional flares and explosion of shells we had noticed as we came into 
the town. 

It seemed to us that no sooner had we fallen asleep than the 
racuous voice of a sergeant reverberated through the great room. 
Drowsily we turned over on our lumpy beds and cursed him for a 
meddling fool. Why didn't he go to bed and shut up? But the ser- 
geant was in earnest and finally we began to realize that it was some- 
thing besides a mischievous prank. *'Get up ! We move in half an 
hour. Get up ! you, and roll your packs !" Thus, one by one we were 
routed out. It was 3 :30 A. M. What in the name of the devil were 
we going to do? Wide awake now, and chuck full of venomous 
thoughts which we didn't care to keep to ourselves, we rolled packs 
and spouted invectives. 

It was a strange mixture of anger and despair and a sense of 
injustice that filled our hearts. We had eight or ten kilometers to 
hike before daylight! 

Fresh fuel was added to the fire of resentment that burned 
hotly in our breasts, when we reached the courtyard below and had to 
stand around in the cold. It was pitch-dark, and the tangle of mules, 
carts, wagons and horses was never unraveled until daybreak. Then, 
two hours late, the regiment started southeast out of Deynze. 

Once on the road, our anger cooled, we accepted the situation 
with our usual philosophy, and soon were in our habitual marching 
mood, — joking, "chewing the rag," commentiug on the things we 
saw, and singing snatches of songs. The rumor came that the enemy 
had retreated a long distance under cover of darkness, and we, ac- 
cordingly, had to move up so as to keep in touch with the front line. 

We passed long lines of French infantry and artillery who were 
returning from the front. They were in high spirits, singing and 
whooping and shouting, "Finis la guerre !" "Finis la guerre !" 
"Vive I'Amerique! Vive la France!" "Finis la guerre!" We 

148 



laughed at them in derision, which only caused them to become 
frantic in their efforts to convince us *'Oui ! Oui ! La guerre est 
fini !" One American summed up our opinion of all this in two 
words; a Poilu slung a volley of excited, jumbled explanations in 
French at him and he replied, ''Aw, G'wan !" 

At about 9:00 A. M. we halted and fell out in a bit of scrub 
woods which offered concealment for our carts and animals. The 
occasional reports of cannon and staccato **tap — tap — tap — tap" of 
machine guns could be distinctly heard. "Finis la guerre !" 

We laid under cover of this woods until 3 :00 P. M. and had a 
hot meal at noon of bully-beef stew, coffee, bread and molasses. 
Then after a three kilometer hike, we entered the village of Huysse 
and were quartered in an old courtyard and the adjoining garden. 
As it was unknown at what hour we might have to move on, we were 
ordered to pitch pup-tents or make our beds in the open, as we chose, 
but to be in "constant readiness to depart." That night there was 
considerable shelling of the ridge fifty yards beyond the town. — 
Finis la guerre ! 



149 



YTHIEi4RMySTB£E: f 



We were rather surprised when we awoke the next morning to 
the reaHzation that we had not been disturbed during the night, and 
that there were no signs at all of moving out. 

That morning the French and Belgian soldiers, and even the 
civilians, seemed clear ''beside themselves" with joy and excitement. 
They assured us again and again that the war was over. At 11 :00 
A. M. all fighting would cease. The Germans had signed the armis- 
tice which had been offered in the nature of an ultimatum by General 
Foch. We were frankly skeptical. Eleven o'clock came and went 
almost unnoticed, so little faith did we have in what we called a wild 
rumor. 

Several hours afterward it began to dawn upon us that perhaps 
there was something to the story. No firing had been heard since 
that hour. We fought against allowing ourselves to believe, how- 
ever, for the memory of our previous disappointment still rankled. 
No official announcement had yet been made and we tried to brush 
the tempting thoughts of peace from our minds. Later, our officers 
assured us that the armistice was an established fact. Even then we 
were not fully convinced. It was too good to be true. 

It is difficult to say just when we did fully realize that the war, 
so far as fighting was concerned, was over, so gradually did the 
knowledge come. To say that we indulged in wild celebrations would 
be a falsehood. No official bulletins were issued. We had nothing 
but verbal statements to depend upon, and these we could not place 
faith in. Perhaps full belief came when we got hold of a two-day 
old newspaper, on November 13th, which described the effect upon 
the world and the complete story of Germany's defeat. The greatest 
day in the history of man had passed unknown to us ! 





ISO 



Guess the Frogs and Belgies thought we were pro-German be- 
cause we called them liars and wouldn't help them celebrate. 



The boys in the front line resurrected an old baseball and cele- 
brated by playing One Old Cat in No Man's Land. 



Several days after the signing of the armistice we found out 
that the boys of our division were chasing Jerry right up to the last 
minute. They went over the top on the morning of the eleventh and 
rambled two kilometers before the orders to cease hostilities came to 
them. The old Thirty-Seventh was driving to the very end ! 



Our Second Belgian Drive ended, the world went mad with joy, 
and the Kaiser was "kapoot" at exactly the eleventh hour, the elev- 
enth day of the eleventh month of the year. 



The question uppermost in our minds at 1 1 :00 o'clock, Novem- 
ber 11th, was, "When do we eat?" 



Now that the chance of killing us off in battle was gone, some 
arm-chair strategist started to kill us by drilling us. 



Slatinsky (horseshoer) — "Wotta hell I care if war is over? I 
gotta shoe these dam mules jus' same !" 

Dainus — ''Yeah ! An' I can't get no more sooweneers !" 



Vic — "Well, Ray, what are you going to do now that the war's 
over?" 

Johnson — "Go home and get married, I guess." 

Vic — "Gosh, haven't you had enough fighting?" 



Hamer Farrell hit it just about right. Several young privates 
were building aircastles of an early trip home. 

"You'll be lucky if you get home by next spring!" remarked 
Hamer. 

And they called him a pessimist ! ! 

151 



Vujich was telling the Skipper about a French soldier he had 
been talking with in a street in Huysse. 

'*He was tell me like dis. He poundem chest and holler in 
French he was four year in the war. Then he dance around like dis 
— and holler, 'Fineesh la guerre, — me fineesh!' And he throwem 
belt and canteen and rifle over fence !" 



Richner, finally convinced that the war was over, got excited 
and drank his milk straight instead of diluting it, as usual, with 
water. This excess was too much for him, and he succumbed to the 
effects of this powerful stimulant. He behaved so scandalously that 
he nearly lost his quill. 



"Well," remarked Pap Southworth, when asked what he thought 
of the war now, "I'm sorry to say that I have not yet succeeded in 
forcing the Cooties to sign an armistice. I have just read my shirt 
and find to my sorrow that they have over-run the er Alsace- 
Lorraine Sector and are advancing on Brest !" 



For a whole week after the signing of the armistice the Frogs 
and Belgies continued celebrating. Every night the countryside 
was alight with rockets and flares, and the explosions of hand- 
grenades and dynamite kept us in a constant state of apprehension 
lest the wkr was starting again ! 



152 




November i8th-November 21st 

While we were at Huysse many rumors were abroad among the 
men. Some said that we were going back to Thielt and thence to 
France ; others that we were to follow the Germans through Belgmm 
to the Rhine. 

On Sunday, the 17th, a cloudy, cold day, we left the village at 
3 -00 P M and hiked five or six kilometers to Syngem, where we 
were billeted overnight in a small, unused schoolhouse. Next morn- 
ing we marched ten kilometers to Hundelghem, m the direction ot 
Brussels. It looked as though we were going to follow up the Huns, 
sure enough The weather had continued cold and we encountered 
light flurries of snow, which made the cobblestones wet and slippery, 
and hiking very difficult. 

At Hundelghem, a fairly large village, we were billeted in sev- 
eral large barns, full of clean straw. Although these quarters were 
cold and draughty, they were much better than any we had been m 
for many weeks. Our kitchen was established under the covered 
entry-way into the courtyard of an Estaiminet, or wineshop, near our 
billets. 

No dry fields were available for drill, so, during our stay here 
we loafed about the town,— a state of affairs quite to our liking. We 
expected any day to receive orders to proceed to Brussels, where the 
division was to parade, but it was found impracticable to send the 
entire organization. Instead, one thousand men, picked from every 
company of the two infantry brigades, went to the Belgian capital 
to represent the Thirty-Seventh in the review of Alhed armies by 
King Albert. 

"The Americans are wonderful soldiers," declared King Albert, 
of Belgium, at Courtrai, in an interview given correspondents of the 
American press on November 6th. He gave a message to the Amer- 
ican people warmly praising the valor of the Yankee fighters. 

"At first we knew the Americans only as great and sympathetic 
friends, but now we know them as brothers in arms," continued the 
King "I have followed the progress of the soldiers from Ohio and 
the Pacific Coast, and they are wonderful. I am filled with admira- 
tion for them. I want American people to know that I appreciate 

153 



what their soldiers are doing for our poor stricken country, and also 
the bountiful aid furnished by America in food and clothing!" 



We made writing rooms out of the many Estaminets in Hundel- 
ghem. You can't write a hot letter to your girl in a cold billet ! 



The manure piles in the barnyards were so numerous and fra- 
grant that we couldn't help thinking we were back in France. 



We were still on French rations, but hot Belgian bread with 
boo-coo butter kept us alive. 



Waldo was reminiscencing. "When I left home," said he, ''they 
laid off the six D. T.'s and two cops that they used to have to keep 
on the job around Doan's Corners in Cleveland." 



Continuing in the above vein, just to show us what a hard guy 
he was in civil life, he said, "I used to play on a church basketball 
team. One night we were playin' another church team and it devel- 
oped into a sluggin' match. The crowd got excited when I slugged 
one dude in the belly and the next thing I knew there was a minister 
hangin' around my neck, and six girls tryin' to scalp me !" 



See the cooks, K. P.'s and mess-sergeant about mysterious proc- 
ess of converting sugar, candles and bread into cognac ! 



154 



M^:ui\ 



November 2^rd-Decemher 4th 

Hundelgehm, Belgium, will always be remembered as the turn- 
ing point in our lives which started our long, weary, slow progress 
toward home. A change of orders for the division set us on the road 
back toward the coast, while we had expected to move on to Brussels 
and thence to the Rhine. 

Leaving that village on the morning of Thursday, November 
21st, we hiked back ten kilometers to Nazareth, where we were bil- 
leted over night. The weather continued cold, especially at night, 
and we found our barn-billets very cold and draughty. A heavy 
hoar-frost encrusted the landscape when we awoke the next morning. 

On that day we made one of the toughest hikes we had ever 
experienced, traveling twenty-five kilometers over the terrible cobble- 
stone roads. By the time we reached Deynze we were already foot- 
sore and weary and extremely hungry, — we had had only a light 
breakfast. Fortunately we halted to rest in the streets of that city, 
and found that it had already sprung to life and, somehow, the stores 
had secured a stock of foodstuffs. Such delicacies as chocolate and 
grapes were to be^had in great plenty, though at tremendous prices, 
and we crowded Into the shops to buy things to eat. Five or six 
kilometers west of Deynze we turned south and were billeted in the 
town of Wacken, just before dark. 

Our weary journey was far from being completed. On the mor- 
row we dragged twenty kilometers further to the western outskirts 
of Iseghem. We neared our billets almost completely exhausted by 
the strain of the last three days of marching ; many of the men had 
bleeding feet (the effect of the hated English shoes). 

Iseghem, a city of fourteen thousand, is located about seven kilo- 
meters east of Roulers. Like Thielt, it contains many stores, all of 
which were well stocked and open for business, although the place 
was still in the process of readjustment after its recent release from 
the enemy. There were also many restaurants and cafes open, and 
an influx of questionable men and women was setting in ; the town 
bemg full of French and American soldiers and money circulating 
freely. 

155 



Our billets were just outside the city limits in an old school- 
building which had been damaged to some extent by the passage of 
the battle-line a few weeks before. Practically all the windows were 
out, making it a very cold and draughty place for sleeping. 

When we came to Iseghem we fully expected to push on to 
Roulers on the following day, but, although we lived in constant 
suspense, orders did not come until December 3rd. Meanwhile, we 
loafed and amused ourselves as best we could, usually in Iseghem, 
until Regimental Headquarters despairingly put out a drill schedule. 
We drilled one morning, it rained that afternoon and all the next 
day, and we left on the following morning. Drill, therefore, troubled 
us but little. 



The first 'We're going to LeMans" rumor cropped up at Ise- 
ghem. The worst of it is, we really believed we were going to en- 
train for that place from Roulers ! 



Private Harley VanScoit was a neat dresser. He had smuggled 
a nice pair of russet shoes through all our vicissitudes. Private 
George Tepper, assistant to the supply sergeant, at Iseghem, found 
out he had them and tried to "bull" him into turning them in. Scoit 
was too wise for him and George, the would-be neat dresser, got 
fooled in his nefarious plot. 



Decker went into a drug store in Iseghem. 

"Sir," said he, "I would like to get something for the cooties." 

"Oui ! Oui ! Toot-suite !" 

He brought forth a bottle of light colored liquid and Deck parted 
with ten francs. When he got back to the billets he went to his in- 
terpreter, Schneck, and asked him to read the label. Schneck read 
the following : "Castor Oil — Very Nice for Infants !" 



"I walked into Private William Blakeman's billet," says Pap 
Southworth, "and found him sitting on his bunk with his undershirt 
on his knee." 

"What's the matter, Bill?" I asked. 

"Well, I've lost my first-sergeant cootie and three first-class 
privates in a skirmish near the Toul sector," he replied. 

"Don't let that worry you, Bill," I told him. "I have a full com- 
pany and I'll gladly lend you some." 

"Fine !" says Bill. "I'll be able to pay you back tomorrow morn- 



ing!" 



156 



Somewhere in this book we made quite a fuss over the kindness 
of the Belgians. We also remarked that unfortunately there are 
mercenary persons among the best of people. 

At Iseghem, a certain private went with a comrade to a restau- 
rant and ordered up a meal ; nothing unusual about that, as we were 
on French rations. It cost ten francs for the two orders of steak 
and potatoes. A day or so later the troops in Iseghem were paid and 
francs began to flow freely. The two soldiers went back to the same 
restaurant. (French rations again had their goat.) They ordered 
up the same meal. This time the petite little waitress ''horsed around 
a bit," so to speak. She patted the private's cheek coquettishly, and 
murmured in his ear, "Vingt franc, Monsieur, sil-vous-plait !" which 
was her pretty way of collecting twenty francs. 

Now, an American soldier never argues over prices. Although 
dumfounded at this camouflaged robbery, the soldier paid. 

But — as he went out the door he slipped a quart of cognac under 
his overcoat, and beat it, whistling contentedly. 

"Do unto others as they do unto you," we might say, amending 
the Golden Rule. 



French rations seemed to metamorphose into Chinese rations at 
Iseghem. Somebody must have gotten a corner on rice, drugged 
Uncle Sam, and unloaded the world's supply on the Machine Gun 
Company, or else the Q. M. C. and M. P.'s wouldn't eat it! 



There were many cafes in Iseghem which suddenly blossomed 
forth, after our arrival, with wine, women and song. Most of them 
were run by French brigands, one in particular being operated by a 
trio ^yho looked capable of anything from kidnaping to house- 
breaking. 

There were two men and a woman. From the looks of the lay- 
out this dame was playing the part of the siren. They made a mis- 
take there; only Frogs like "fat ones." She was 'an extra full 
bosomed skirt with a prodigious waist and other bovine proportions. 
Apparently she was about thirty years old, but judging from actions 
one might think she was nineteen. She wore clothes, except on her 
neck and shoulders. These clothes extended south to a point a bit 
below her knees, exposing large means of support. Her job was to 
give the boys the "come hither" look and peddle the wine. 

The first of the two men was a particularly brigandish-looking 
brigand with a sharp pointed black moustache and black curly hair. 
His job was apparently that of floor-walker and chucker-out. 

157 



The other of the trio was the most mysterious and fascinating 
of the lot. He reminded one of the pictures, in magazines, of Paris 
Apaches. His job was to furnish the music, which he did in an in- 
imitable manner. A lean, wiry little fellow, in a close-fitting jersey 
sweater, with black straight hair parted in the middle and curving 
down beside his eyes, he was always seen perched upon a stool on 
top of a table, wringing outlandish music from an accordion and 
keeping time with a fascinating serpentine swaying of the body and 
humping of the shoulders. The most fascinating trait of this queer 
dude, however, was his habit of gazing unblinkingly straight ahead 
at nothing at all. If some excited Frog tried to fondle the made- 
moiselle ( ?) he never batted an eye. If the chucker-out chucked 
someone out he never flicked an ear. As for the chattering, clatter- 
ing mob of dancers, wiggling and cavorting through the shimmy- 
shiver, he paid not the least attention to them. He was a being apart. 

Few Americans were made fools of by attempting to dance with 
the many mademoiselles in the crowd. It wasn't dancing as we knew 
it in America, it was just a mad drunken whirl. We crowded into 
that cafe to watch the Froggies dance, but the thing that attracted 
us most was the sinuous swaying and wild music of the sphinx- 
like, black-eyed, seductive musician. 



American girls wouldn't have worried so much over the danger 
of French and Belgian mademoiselles beguiling their boys if they 
could have happened to stand near one of the average type in a 
crowd and noticed the high-water mark on her neck and the grimy 
top of her undershirt (s'pose we ought to blush at mentioning un- 
mentionables) peeping out around it. 



Many of us got baths at Iseghem in the ''Officers' Baths" for- 
merly used by the Germans. Tile bath tubs, tile walls and floor, 
nickel plated fixtures, showers, hot water ! Oh, boy! 



Quaedypre 

December yth-Decemher 17th 

On the misty, warm morning of Wednesday, December 4th, we 
left Iseghem and hiked over the muddy, slippery cobbles to Roulers 
and thence to Staden, the town in which we had first been billeted in 
Belgium. Our dream of entraining for LeMans at Roulers was 
rudely shattered. 

Spending the night at Staden, which town we found in the same 
condition it had been in a month and a half ago, we rose early and 

158 



made light packs. We were to hike forty kilometers across the old 
No Man's Land, and arrangements had been made to carry our 
blanket-rolls on trucks. 

Forty kilometers over a broken land such as had been described 
before in this book is a terrible ordeal even under light packs. A 
glance at the map and the tracing of our route through the former 
towns of Langhemarck, Boesinghe, Elverdinghe and Poperinghe to 
Proven, coupled with the information that we were on the road, 
marching steadily, for eleven and a half hours, and that when we 
reached our destination forty per cent of the men had bleeding feet, 
is sufficient to make the reader understand why we term it the worst 
hike in our history ; worse, even, that the memorable hike from the 
Badonviller front to Housseras. We started from Staden at 8 :30 A. 
M. and arrived in Proven, thirty kilometers east of Dunkirk, at 8:00 
P. M. 

We were assigned to a cluster of wooden barracks, a former 
English camp, and after getting our blanket rolls from the pile where 
they had been dumped off the truck, we at once made up our bunks 
and went to sleep. Most of us were too weary to try to eat the 
supper of Canned WilHe. bread, and coffee our kitchen prepared. 

Proven was nothing but a mud-hole, and we were too much dis- 
gusted with affairs to be interested in it. We heard that we were to 
entrain, presumably for LeMans, at a nearby railhead, but that rurrK)r 
failed to cause more than a ripple of sarcastic comment. 

On the morning of December 7th we again took the road, this 
time under our usual full-pack, and hiked across the frontier into 
France. Early in the afternoon we reached the village of Ouaed- 
ypre, having marched seventeen kilometers. 

Quaedypre, a small community containing three or four stores 
and as many wineshops, is situated about five kilometers southeast 
of the ancient city of Bergues. Because of the difficulty in securing 
billets, the regiment was scattered over a wide area on the little 
farms surrounding the town. Our company was billeted in two 
parts ; half the men were put in the loft of an old barn and the others 
in a cement floored barracks which had been left unfinished by the 
British. The place was absolutely open at all sides to the cold air. 
With only one blanket apiece it is not strange that we had a pretty 
chilly time of it while we were there. 

Under pressure of orders, some attempt was made to drill us a 
few days after we arrived, but we did not exert ourselves to any 
great degree. We whiled away our spare time with cards and shoot- 
ing crap, or sought amusement in the cafes of the town. 



159 




(Apologies to Walt Mason.) 

When I signed up to do my bit, for Uncle Sam, you know, I 
wore civilian shoes that fit and never scraped a toe. To walk the 
streets in rubber heels was easy as Sam Hill ; we danced the Jazz and 
sundry reels and danced 'em fit to kill. The Army gave me russet 
shoes ; at first I thought them rummies ; when I set out to make a 
cruise they felt like two big mummies. A few days' use and they 
were "jake," and when our Stunt Night came, the dance steps I could 
safely take with ne'er a thought of shame. At Sheridan they wished 
on me a pair of army hobs. I drilled at first in misery ; the hobnails 
felt like knobs. To do squads east and west was then almost too 
much for me, because I couldn't watch them when I held a pivot, 
see? But gradually I mastered those and handled 'em with ease. 
Our camp life soon came to a close ; they shipped us o'er the seas. 
The Yankee hob we've learned to like ; it's tried and proven fine ; it 
is our friend on weary hike, or service in the line. But Belgian 
service introduced a boot that causes woes. These English shoes 
hurt like the deuce, with heel-plates on the toes. Top Sergeant 
Clough was 'roused one night and donned them in a hurry ; he got 
the left one for the right, but he said, "I should worry." They work 
both ways that's true, we know, but when all's said and done, that 
doesn't help relieve the toe; besides, they weigh a ton. So when we 
sail for home again, with Yank shoes on our feet, we'll weep for 
English army men, and for the love of Pete, let's hope that English 
shoes at home don't change to these in style, for if they do, we cannot 
roam toward the Salvage Pile ! — VAN. 



A severe and protracted epidemic of African Golf (genus 
Shootcrapus) began to appear in the company the day we were paid 
at Quaedypre. Prior to this time this virulent disease, the despair of 
doting mothers, ministers, and poker sharps, was confined to such 
creatures in the company as cooks, K. P.'s buglers, and the mess ser- 
geant. Others had been infected from time to time, but heretofore 
the malady had never entrapped more than fifty per cent of the men. 

160 



At Quaedypre ninety-nine per cent of the company fell. Sergeant 
Bernard Roney was the only one who successfully resisted it. 

African Golf is easily distinguishable by its startling effect. 
The victims invariably gather about a folded blanket laid on the 
floor or ground, and in the course of the next several hours con- 
duct themselves like a Holy Roller Society, emitting shouts, yells, 
and considerable profanity while they conjure one another with 
such remarks (enunciated with intense feeling facilitated by acro- 
batic feats of facial distortion and accompanied by snapping of the 
fingers) as — "Come seven!" — ''Crap him!" — "Read 'em and weep!" 
— "Baby wants a new pair of shoes!" — "Ho, feeber!" — "Big Dick!" 
— "Hit 'im natural!" — "Joe fer me an' I'll never drag!" — "Ninety 
days in the pie-house with a muzzle on" — and others too numerous 
to mention. 

There is no cure for one who has fallen completely a victim 
of Shootcrapus, except that well known tonic, "Finishfrancs." 



A brass rail is not an absolutely necessary adjunct to a good 
^stew." 



The ancient city of Bergues, surrounded by fifty-foot walls 
and a wide deep moat, was guarded at the three entrances by mis- 
guided M. P.s. This, however, did not prevent such enterprising 
individuals as Waldo Clough (our peerless top-sergeant). Sergeant 
Cater, Privates Ray Johnson, Humpy Turner, Coleman, and several 
others, from finding a place to cross the moat and then scaling the 
wall by getting a fallen tree for a ladder. Sergeant Richner tried, 
but got cold feet and quit. 



On the hike between Staden and Proven Vic Norris, right guide, 
was marching beside Lieutenant Fri, and smoking his pipe. The 
lieutenant does not smoke and his delicate nostrils were offended. 
He asked Sergeant Clough "if there wasn't some rule against 
smoking on the March." Clough said there was not. The lieutenant 
then went back to see the skipper about it, but must have received 
the same answer for he looked very sour and marched a yard or 
two ahead in order to escape the noxious fumes. 



While on the march through the old No Man's Land we 
passed an old skull which lay by the roadside. A captain in the 
Medical Detachment, riding ahorse just ahead of the column, saw 
it and asked Sergeant Clough to hand it up to him. Clough did 



161 



so, and after examining it, the captain hung it to his saddle by the 
empty eye-socket and said he'd take it home as a souvenir. A 
private heard him make the remark and shouted : 

"How old was the guy that owned that skull?" 

"Oh, about twenty-eight," replied the captain. 

"That's a hell of a time for a man to lose his head, ain't it?'* 



All the hikes and delays and disappointments that were loaded 
upon us couldn't squelch those day dreams and night dreams of 
home, the festive board, and our girl. 



When we get home we'll refuse to sleep in our nice bed ; we'll 
demand a shakedown of dirty straw, out in the chicken coop. We 
will not cuss the Y. M. C. A. We will demand that Mother give 
us half-cooked rice, oily bacon, weak coffee, and dirty bread for 
breakfast, slum for dinner, and cold beans for supper. We will 
deny ourselves even the light of a candle at night. We will "revel" 
at 5:30 every morning. (The foregoing is a damn lie!) 



A certain Major is reputed to have ridden his horse into a 
cafe in Bergues and raised Cain in general. The M. P.s hauled 
him in and let him adorn a cell in the old dungeon until he got over 
his little jag. He was subsequently severely reprimanded and 
given extra duty. (First time we ever heard of an officer 
getting that.) 

He vented his spleen upon about a dozen privates, whom he 
picked up in Quaedypre, by making them clean up the streets. 
It is interesting to observe the vagaries of some officers and the 
result upon the men. 



162 



December lyth- January 12th 

Another dream — that of entraining at Bergues for the illusive 
city of LeMans — was rudely shattered on the seventeenth. Instead, 
we marched sixteen kilometers through Esquelbecq, near Worm- 
houdt, to the village of Arneke on the Dunkirk-Hazebrouck rail- 
road. The problem of billeting was difficult, as around Quaedypre, 
and consequently the regiment was scattered over a large area. 
The main body of our company went into former British Barracks, 
just within the limits of the town and close to the railroad. 

These barracks were of a type commonly used by the British 
Army and were known as "Baby Elephants," or "Bow-huts." 
Their construction was very simple; a wooden floor, about fifteen 
feet wide and thirty feet long, was surmounted by a semi-circular 
roof of corrugated iron, the highest point of the arch being about 
seven feet, and the open ends of the shelter thus formed boarded 
up. There were two windows of salvaged aeroplane fabric in each 
end and a single wooden door in one end. The huts numbered 
seven or eight in all and were set in a double row, forming a sort 
of street. One or two others stood off by themselves in the field. 
An English Y. M. C. A. Hut was right next door to these billets 
and our cooks found a British kitchen and messhall all ready for 
our use, thus making it unnecessary to cook out in the open on our 
rolling kitchen. It was a novelty to us to have tables to eat at; 
we were more accustomed to squatting on our heels in mud or 
setting our messkits on wagon tongues and logs. 

The British Y. M. C. A. provided us a good lounging place. 
It contained writing tables, a small library, and a piano, and such 
things as cocoa, cakes, candles, matches, and milk were on sale 
at very reasonable prices. Later on, an American Y. M. C. A. 
opened up in the town, but the majority of us stuck to the little 
English Hut during spare hours. There were a few British 
soldiers in the town doing engineering work and we found them 
to be mighty fine fellows. They came often to the Hut and we 
enjoyed meeting and talking with them. 

Arneke was a muddy, dirty, sprawling village ; drab, uninterest- 
ing, and slow. It was so boresome that we wondered how on earth 

163 



people could bear living their lives in such a place. There were 
few stores — a couple of groceries, four or five wineshops, and two 
restaurants or tea rooms, as they are called by the Tommies. 

We were fated to remain in this place until after the New 
Year, although fortunately for our peace of mind, we did not 
know that when we came. The weather was simply rotten ; it 
rained every day and the roads and fields were a sea of mud. In 
spite of these conditions half-hearted attempts were made to drill 
us ; these usually ended, after a half hour of calisthenics, in a game 
of some kind, and we then retired to our billets for the rest of 
the day. 



Let us explain at once that the game we usually played after 
calisthenics is known by an approbrious name which we could only 
state at the risk of being soundly censured by the Censor. How- 
ever, by the use of perfectly legitimate literary camouflage we can 
impart the desired information by calling the game ''Torrid Zone." 
The torrid zone is produced in an unfortunate comrade by chasing* 
him diligently around a circle of men, encouraging him to gallop 
at high rate of speed by vigorous applications of a waist-belt to 
his nether portions. This zone can be made torrid by accidently 
using the buckle-end instead of the free end of the belt. However, 
attractive this amusement may seem we must warn the uninitiated 
that it is not wise for Young Ladies' Clubs to attempt to play it. 



Remember the Estaminet at the corner of the Rue de la Gare 
and the main street of Arneke? And the petite mademoiselle with 
that snug, blue sweatercoat? 

On the morning of the 23rd Mademoiselle's papa asked her: 

"Who was here with you last night?" 

"Well — er — Marie was here, father." 

"Well, tell Marie she's left her belt and spurs under the sofa." 

(Note: Lt. Fri. remarked on the morning of the 23rd while in 
one of the bowhuts that he thought "She was a very beautiful girl.") 

Oh, Pussy-foot ! You li'l rascal ! 



Dainus, after drinking three bottles of Vin Blanc: 
"Hell with dat Bond Winn. . . . Gimme Coneeack!' 



Seaman was broke, but not without resource. He went into 
the English "Y" Hut at Arneke and solicited "clankers" for a "poor 
family named Smith." Seaman missed his profession. He should 
have been a solicitor of funds for the Y. M. C. A. 

164 



When we hit Arneke, a meal of tough steak and ''chips" cost 
us three francs ; a week later it cost four francs ; then it rose to 
five francs; and the day we left, the poor poverty-stricken Frogs, 
who had only been making two hundred francs a day, kindly let 
us pay six francs! 



The Vinegar Blink that was sold in Arneke became Vinegar 
Blink au I'Eau a week after we arrived. 



Christmas — 1918 

Christmas Day, as far as outward manifestations are concerned, 
passed rather quietly. We had a late breakfast and spent the 
morning, as was our habit on other days, washing, shaving and 
loafing. Some of us, who needed new shoes, walked a couple of 
kilometers to the supply dump to get them. 

At 2:30 P. M. we had a good meal of meat-balls, mashed 
potatoes and gravy, salad, and cocoa. Having tucked that comfort- 
ably under our belts we were called into the messhall by the Cap- 
tain. A supply of little kit-bags had come to us from the Red 
Cross, but unfortunately there were not sufficient available to give 
one to each man. The Skipper therefore arranged a lottery, and 
for the men who lost out on Red Cross Bags there was stick-candy 
in large tin boxes. The Y. M. C. A. issued a package of cakes, a 
pack of ''Camels," a can of "P. A." and a bar of chocolate to each 
man, and the K. of C. sent us a box of cigarettes apiece. 

As for the inner side of Christmas — the part locked deep 
within a fellow's heart — who can tell exactly what thoughts were 
passing behind the mask of the habitually cheerful countenances 
of "the boys"? They looked no different, they acted no different, 
yet it is safe to say that all of them were thinking more than usual 
of the home folks, of Christmases gone by, and thanking God that 
they weren't driving through shell and machine gun fire in that wet 
cold weather that typifies winter in France. 



'Tis the day after Christmas, 
Last night we were "tanks"; 

Today we are sober. 
But minus our francs ! 



Speaking of Christmas makes us remember with a start that 
we never noticed the passing of Thanksgiving Day ! 

165 



Some one of that bunch who call themselves the **Dirty Dozen" 
(among them Seaman, Freiter, Red Felkey, and others) conceived 
the idea that Christmas Eve wouldn't be complete without Christmas 
carols. The result was a parade and snake dance through the 
billets, each man with a lighted candle. Then they went over town 
and serenaded the Captain and the Colonel. A band of professional 
thugs, boot-leggers, second-story artists, and con-men attending a 
church-social could be no more incongruous than the singing by 
these **hard-guys" of that charming little ditty, "Up on the house- 
tops, click, click, click! Down through the chimney comes old 
Saint Nick !" 



New Year's Day— 1919 

We celebrated New Year's Eve with Vinegar Blink and Cognac. 
Some of the boys paraded around the billets pounding tin cans and 
old kettles, yowling songs, and raking the corrugated iron of the 
Bowhuts with sticks, producing a pandemonium and racket quite 
befitting the occasion. On New Year's Day a field meet and machine 
gun contest was held with companies of the Machine Gun Battalion, 
and following a good dinner the Captain read the first Division 
order of the New Year, which stated that we would sail for the 
U. S. A. on the 30th of January. The text of the order was as 
follows : *'The Division Commander wishes the 37th Division a 
happy New Year upon receipt of information that the Division 
sails for home on January 30th, 1919." Did we cheer? Boy, the 
natives thought we were going nutty ! 

On the second of January the Regimental Show was put on 
for our benefit at the Y. M. C. A. Though costumes and scenery 
were necessarily makeshift, their performance was a scream from 
beginning to end. Songs, new and old, and all "catchy," together 
with comedians and a stringed instrument four, held our interest 
for two good hours. Mike Patras, in a German helmet and jacket 
and false whiskers, made a hit with his song, "She never came back, 
she never came back, she never came back any more!" Rats 
Waters cavorted in the chorus, and Red Angell pulled the curtains. 



166 




A straight road. 

The Kitchen on a drive. 

O'Bannon with a quill out. 

Richner with a quill in. 

Coleman without Johnson. 

Johnson without Coleman. 

Supply Sergeant Frye with something you wanted. 

Reber with his face washed. 

Paul Cater with his mouth shut. 

Freiter — ditto. 

Tepper without a rumor. 

Bath-houses. 

Kid — Kid who ? — why, Kid Gloves ! 

The Inside of a First Class Coach. 

Decent sized towns. 

Pie. 

Norris without a pipe in his face. 

Vandy's commission. 

Gus Miller in a hurry. 

''Rouge" Hall with a cool head — how could a red-head be cool? 

"Stevey" without 'Top." 

Kid Baxter not ready to battle. 

A German division we couldn't lick to a frazzle — we never 

met one! 
Furloughs to Paris. 
An M. P. we liked. 
Specs without a story to tell. 

Fugleman when he wasn't tinkering with a shell or a grenade. 
Anybody near him when he was tinkering! 
A taller man than Pete Mumy or Jesse Chisnell. 
Angell, the curtain puller, without a damphool remark. 
A light pack. 

167 



On the third of January we received an awful jolt. The 
British gave us notice to get out of their Bowhuts, as they were 
going to tear them down. We were up the creek without a paddle. 
Lieutenant Fri got excited and chased us out ahead of time to a 
leaky old barn. The weather was raw and cold and we resented 
the change. About half the company sought their own billets — 
some went back to the Bowhuts to stay until actually kicked out, 
others slept in the box-cars on siding on the railroad, and a few 
secured rooms and regular beds in private houses. Leave it to an 
American soldier to take care of himself! 



168 



January ij-February iph 

The cars in which we were to leave Arneke were expected 
January 11th, but failed to show up until 6:00 A. M., January 12th. 
Leaving at 11:15 A. M. we traveled through Bergues, Dunkirk, 
and Bourborg and then turned south, passing the outskirts of 
Calais and Boulogne before night-fall. We traveled steadily all 
night and the next day, passing through the large towns of Rouen 
and Laigle, and stopping at dusk in the city of Alencon. Here we 
dropped the cars bearing our mules and carts and proceeded in a 
westerly direction over a branch railroad to Pre-en-Pail where we 
were billeted. 

We were now in the LeMans Area for troops scheduled to 
embark for the United States. The city of LeMans, itself, we never 
entered. It lay about fifty kilometers directly south of Alencon, 

Pre-en-Pail was destined to be the graveyard of our hopes, 
for the thirtieth of January passed and we failed to move to a port. 
Black gloom and crusty skepticism now settled over us. Rumors 
died out for lack of fertile ground. We scoffed and reviled and 
finally became indifferent. Home never seemed farther away, and 
few of us could muster up the ambition to write letters. Is it any 
wonder that men in the company who had never gambled or 
touched liquor before let the bars down and shot crap or inhabited 
wineshops with the rest of us hardened sinners? 



Delousing 

Delousing! It began at Pre-en-Pail and we never heard the 
end of it until we reached home. Heretofore we had been content 
to keep our cooties down to a minimum number, say two or three 
thousand. We had become so used to these little visitors that we'd 
have been lonesome without them. Nothing gives one such a con- 
tented, homelike feeling as the sight of a comrade placidly reducing 
his tribe of insects to the desired number by stripping off his under- 

169 



shirt and cornering them in the various sectors. The kindred feeling 
is irresistible and we ourselves begin to itch deliciously until we 
get into the ring also. Competition as to who can produce the 
largest and fattest coots lends enchantment to the game. Now, 
however, we had to begin on them in dead earnest. Everybody 
wanted to go home, and we knew we couldn't take them with us. 

On January 21st we rolled our packs and hiked fifteen kilo- 
meters to the delouser at St. Denis. Here we got a sort of bath, 
and our clothes and blankets were put in a delouser under live 
steam. The shower baths were a mere single fine stream of warm 
water and usually were cut off just when we were nicely soaped 
up ! The delouser presumably killed the cooties, but we found out 
quickly enough that it only got about half of them. 



Greenleaf cussed because his clothes came out barely warm 
and the cooties still ready for business. He swore it was a damned 
cootie incubator — not a delouser. 



Krueger left a cake of soap in his blouse pocket and it came 
out a pocketful of "goo." 



Harry Cater was running around like a mad dog when the 
water was shut off. He had his eyes full of soap and couldn't find 
his towel. 



We took the mules and carts with us to carry our packs and 
men from the line companies thought we were taking the mules to 
be deloused! 



On the hike to the delouser Vandivort was talking to a French 
soldier during a halt for rest. He wore the Croix de Guerre. 

*'You get those issued with your rations, don't you?" asked 
Vandy with an innocent expression on his face. 

*'Oui, Oui !" replied the Frog, feeling that he was being highly 
complimented. 



Vandy and Eli Turner tore their breeches so as to get new 
ones. Alas, they were S. O. L. for all they issued at the delouser 
was underwear and socks! 

170 



Dunn was busy starting the fire in one of the mule leader's 
billets. The Captain came in, but Dunn was so interested in the 
fire that he failed to look up. 

"Who's in charge of this billet?" asked the Skipper. 

Dunn did not recognize his voice. 

"I am," he snapped, without getting up or turning around. 
"What the hell do you want?" 

"Stand up and I'll talk to you !" 

Then Dunn woke up. Jumping to his feet, he saluted half a 
dozen times, and murmured, "Pardon me, pardon me ! Pardon me, 
sir! — I thought you were Bigler!" 



171 



February i8-March 4th 

The move from Pre-en-Pail to Fye was made on foot, but our 
packs, now so heavy because of recent additions to our equipment, 
were taken on trucks — we carried only one blanket and a slicker 
on our backs. We skirted Alencon, marching southwest, and, having 
hiked twenty kilometers, were billeted overnight near the village of 
Moline. A short hike — nine or ten kilometers — brought us to our 
destination about noon the next day. 

The main portion of Fye was a kilometer distant from our 
billets, which were in a cluster of houses around a junction of two 
roads. Fye is one of the most commonplace, dull, and uninterest- 
ing towns in which we were ever unfortunate enough to be billeted. 
Our life there was equally dull — practically the only diversions were 
falling in for mess thrice daily and congregating in a stuffy wine- 
shop in the evenings. Some of the burden of existence was lifted 
whenever we could secure the band to crowd into the wineshop and 
play for us while we danced with one another or with the hotel 
chambermaid. That mademoiselle had the time of her young life 
with so many men vying for her. With a couple of field inspections 
thrown in, our dissatisfaction with life was complete. The two 
weeks we spent in Fye were nothing more than a blank in our 
existence. 

More Cootie Hunts 

On second thought it must be said that our existence at Fye 
was not entirely a blank — the cooties continued to hold the center 
of the stage. Cooties are most persistent little ''animals." The 
delousing we got at Pre-en-Pail had merely jolted them and by the 
time we reached Fye they had multipled to a greater number than 
before. "Cootie Orders" from Headquarters now began to come 
in. We were instructed to get rid of them by any means available. 
We were advised "to press the seams of our clothing with hot 
irons", — but no one could tell us where to get the irons ! Our com- 
pany settled down to a systematic cootie hunt, the extermination 
being aided by an improvised delouser and bath-house. Cootie in- 
spections were held and the names of men having cooties were 
posted on the bulletin board at the kitchen. We were quite rid of 
them — we thought — when 'we left Fye. 

172 



«fffKmf/;M¥rfflrnt{iH{raMtTO?flii!iLrft<L.m 



March ^th- March 20th 



Thanks to the foresight and thoughtfulness of the Captain, we 
made the hike of twelve kilometers from Fye to the railhead at 
Beaumont with ease. He arranged, after failing to secure trucks, 
to have our packs hauled on wagons which he hired from a French 
civilian. When we passed other companies who were sweating 
under full packs we realized and appreciated our good fortune. 

At Beaumont we picked up our packs and, after receiving hot 
cocoa, cookies, and cigarettes from the Y. M. C. A., went aboard 
the troop-train. When we saw that we were to have real American 
box-cars a murmur of approval went from lipe to lip, but, alas, when 
we found that fifty-eight men went in each car we could see that 
we would be no better off than we had been in French troop-trains. 
Probably the only advantage was that instead of having to subsist 
on travel-rations, or "iron-rations," as we called them, we were 
fed hot meals from the kitchen cars with which the train was 
equipped. 

The train left Beaumont as scheduled at 1 :42 P. M., and we 
ate our supper at Laval. We ran into heavy rain which forced us 
to keep the car doors closed, much to our discomfort and dissatis- 
faction. During the night we passed through Rennes, traveling 
steadily west. Late the following morning we arrived at Morlaix 
and halted for a few moments on the high bridge that spans the 
valley in which the city is built. The view of this ancient town far 
below us was a most pleasing sight. We were on a level with the 
highest church spires, and the people in the streets below looked 
like pygmies. Morlaix is a comparatively short distance from 
Brest, and at 12 :30 P. M. we saw again the arm of the bay where 
we had landed in France nine long months before. The sight 
cheered us, not because we liked Brest — we detested it — but because 
beyond Brest was the broad Atlantic, and Home. 

Rain and mud go together, and are the worst plague a soldier 
knows. We had rain and mud for our greeting at Brest. Leaving 
the train we marched to a semi-shelter, open partially at the sides, 
and unslung our packs. Then we went to the Embarkation Kitchens 

173 



and had our noon meal. These kitchens had not been there when 
we landed in Brest the summer before; they were one of the many 
improvements which we were to see. 

After we had been fed we shouldered our packs and started 
on the hike up the long hill to the heights on which lay the camp. 
We had foreseen this hike and dreaded it, for the memory of our 
former experience was clearly outlined in our minds. On our 
backs, this time, we had the heaviest packs we had ever known, and 
it was almost a full hour of back-breaking work before we reached 
the summit of the hill. The camp could be seen in the distance. 
When we had last viewed this bit of land it had been barren pas- 
tures and dirt-walls and hedges. Now, what a change ! We saw 
a vast expanse of dun colored squad tents that reached to the hori- 
zon. There were barracks and warehouses, kitchens and mess-halls 
in profusion, and as many more under course of construction. The 
roads were teeming with trucks and men. Steam-rollers were at 
work re-enforcing the road with stones crushed by great stone- 
crushers. German prisoners of war and American negroes and 
road-engineers were at work with shovels and picks. And all this 
where we had pitched pup-tents last June ! 

We were quartered in tents near the far end of camp, in section 
No. 87. True to its reputation, the place was a sea of mud. How- 
ever, the tents were floored with wood, and a network of duck- 
boards provided foot paths, so we did not mind the mud so much. 
This campe at Brest, Camp Pontanezen it is called, has been much 
maligned in the newspapers. Some of this criticism is warranted, 
yet everyone seems to forget that the building of such a huge camp 
with such speed as was required was a task of stupendous propor- 
tions. The constant rains and nature of the soil, coupled with the 
difficulty of draining the dirt-walled pastures, made it doubly diffi- 
cult. Although there was mud galore at Brest, we have lived under 
worse conditions. We infinitely preferred good tents, cots, and 
stoves in a sea of mud bridged by duckboards to the cold, lousy 
barn-billets we had lived in before ! 

The weather being so rainy and cold, we were issued two extra 
blankets, making five in all for each man, and provided with bed- 
ticks filled with dry grass or hay. Wood and coal for the conical 
ironstoves was issued daily. We were fed at the troop-kitchens 
of which there were a dozen or more in camp. Each of these 
kitchens took care of approximately ten thousand men at each meal. 

There were Y. M. C. A. huts and canteens, U. S. Commissaries, 
K. of C. halls, and Salvation Army tents scattered throughout the 
camp. Amusement, usually motion-pictures, was provided at these 
halls every evening. The Salvation Army, with free cocoa and 
doughnuts, made a particular hit with us. 

174 



We wouldn't have minded Brest so much if it hadn't been for 
details. Sixty, eighty, or a hundred men a day had to be sent out 
from the company at the orders of the camp officials. Each division 
had to contribute all possible to the improvement of the camp as 
it passed through on the way home. We did everything from 
ditch-digging to painting roofs and our clothes were in a sorry con- 
dition as a result when it came time to embark. 



On Friday, March 7th, we had our first cootie inspection. The 
entire regiment was inspected, a company at a time. We marched 
into a large empty building, stripped off our coats and shirts, and 
peeled our undershirts up over our heads as the inspecting officer 
passed. 



Swihart, Sylvia, Donahue, Harry Cater, and Krueger had 'em ! 
Poor boys, they had to be shaved. 



Lieutenant Colonel Charles C. Chambers, our former captain, 
paid Captain Wedow a visit on the eleventh. He called in many 
of the old Cleveland boys and gave them the glad hand. He was 
particularly happy because he was to sail for home the next day. 



On the night of Wednesday, March 12th, we went through the 
camp delouser. Our clothing was hung on movable racks, and while 
we were under the showers, was subjected to a dry heat of exceed- 
ingly high temperature. We went through a regular "by the num- 
bers" bath. It was a new one on us ! The soldiers in charge of 
the place seemed to enjoy this chance to "boss us around." Abso- 
lute silence was required and half the joy of the bath was taken 
away because we couldn't shout and yell. We were lined up under 
the showers and at a signal the water was turned on. "Soak your- 
selves," we were ordered. We "soaked" for a half a minute and 
then the water was shut off. "Soap yourselves — soap is in the 
troughs," came the sing-song voice. We lathered our bodies with 
a peculiar soft soap like wall-paper paste and then, at the order, 
"Under the showers," we stood shivering on the wet slatted floor. 
They kept us waiting a sufficient length of time to properly impress 
it upon our minds that we were at the mercy of the S. O. S. and 
then turned on the water. We scarcely had time to rinse off the 
soap when the water was again cut off and we were shunted into 

175 



another room where we received clean underwear and our deloused 
clothes. 

Our trip through one "mad-house" was over! 



The day after we were deloused that old ''mad-house" burnt to 
the ground. Somebody left a box of matches in his pockets. It 
was a sight for sore eyes to see the poor dudes pouring out naked 
into the cold air! 



176 



'The Day" came at last! On the morning of Wednesday, 
March 19th, the Captain, in high good humor, as evidenced by a 
constant flow of jokes and banter, personally aroused us at 4:^U 
a m An ordinary Skipper would have had the guard wake the 1 op 
Buck and have snoozed until daylight, but not Captain Wedow He 
let everyone sleep as long as possible and then routed us out of bed 
himself. Maybe he was just so chuckful of good spirits that he 
couldn't resist telling us in person that 'The Day" had come. 

Before daylight we had our part of the camp spick and span 
and our extra blankets turned in to the supply sergeant. Our packs 
were rolled before breakfast. The hour of moving was uncertain, 
but, as ever before, the old Machine Gun Company was m readiness, 
come when it would. 

After breakfast we went, bag and baggage, to the inspection 
building near the old delouser which had been destroyed by fire 
Camp officers inspected our packs and clothing for uniformity and 
neatness, and ours were pronounced excellent. We marched out of 
the building, and then, due to an error, had to file through the 
''mad house^" again for our final cootie inspection. Nobody had 'em ! 

When we got back to our tents we were issued a blue Red Cross 
kit bag apiece, which contained shaving soap, towel, handkerchief, 
tooth powder and tooth brush. These bags made a very convenient 
receptacle for the "junk" we had heretofore been carrying in our 
pockets and were much appreciated. We rested, rather, say fidgeted 
in our tents for nearly an hour, and then, at 11:45 a. m., formed 
up in columns of squads on the road. Yes, it was raining— it always 
did when we moved ! 

Somehow, somewhere, something went wrong, and we stood 
there in the driving rain for nearly an hour and a half. Can you 
beat it— this army? There was but one thing to do, stand stolidly 
in our places and let the rain trickle off our little "Rain-in-the-face" 
caps and down our necks until the "powers that be" should decide 
that we were sufficientlv soaked. How a soldier does hate rain and 
mud ! How he does hate to have to stand helplessly and take it, not 
knowing why. And how fluently he can cuss the army at such times ! 
The American soldier is the most unreasonable critter in the world 

177 



when he doesn't know the whys and wherefores of a disagreeable 
situation. For grouching and all around ability to cuss sarcastically 
he has eyery other kind of soldier backed off the boards. He could 
make Billy Sunday gasp for lack of breath in a cussing match. 

The column finally started to creep forward by fits and starts, 
and when we came to a spot opposite the big troop kitchen we found 
further food for scathing remark and wholesale grouching. They 
were handing out Corned Willie and coffee as the column passed. 
And we had stood in the rain for an hour and a half when we might 
just as wtII have been eating a good dinner in the mess hall. 

Now, to the uninitiated the foregoing will give the impression 
that we weren't at all appreciative of the fact that we were going 
home. Not so at all — beneath our grouching ran an undercurrent 
of happiness and content. We just love to kick and grouch about 
minor matters, that's all. As we got under way, though we found 
the roads "gooey" with mud, the rain driving in our faces, and our 
packs galling to our, of late, unaccustomed shoulders, we ceased 
berating the army. We were "doing something" now ; this hike was 
something that had to be done. It was the beginning of our trip 
home ! 

The hike to Brest, by the back road which we necessarily had 
to take because of traffic, was about six kilometers in length. Our 
route led us through the city before we descended to the sea level 
and we tried our best to make a snappy and soldierly appearance, 
so that the people who saw us might have a good impression of the 
soldiers leaving their shores. We succeeded. 

Arriving at the docks at about 3 :30 p. m. we found things 
moved with a speed quite to our liking. Scarcely ten minutes elapsed 
before we were climbing the gang plank of the Great Northern. As 
we answered the check roll call from the passenger list we were 
given a pair of socks apiece by women of the Red Cross. They 
were stuffed, Christmas fashion, with gifts, which, upon examina- 
tion, we found to be such things as cigarettes, gum, candy, chewing 
tobacco, and little cans of jam. Perhaps a soldier is a critical and 
uncompromising fellow, but nothing brings him more genuine joy 
and is received with greater appreciation than just such comforts 
as these. 

Upon boarding the vessel we marched immediately to our quar- 
ters on "D-Deck" midway of the ship, and the lowest troop deck in 
the ship. The upper troop decks were filled with casuals and hos- 
pital cases, numbering about nine hundred men in all. We were 
allowed to roam at will about the boat, and the majority went at 
once to the open decks to while away the hours bv watching the 
activities around the docks and harbor. 

178 



Compared with the Leviathan, the Great Northern was a pygmy 
ship. She had a capacity of about three thousand as compared with 
the Leviathan's twelve thousand. However, because of the freedom 
we were accorded, we Hked her fully as well as the Leviathan. She 
was reputed to be the fastest ship in the Transport Service, holding 
the Brest-New York-Brest round trip record with the remarkable 
time of fourteen days, fourteen and a half hours. Previous to her 
induction into the Transport Service she had been a Pacific Coast 
passenger boat and was built to compete with coast line railroads. 



Ruel: ''What's them sand barges for, Speary?" 
Speary: "Oh, them? Them's to put sand on the track when 
we start out, son." 



While we were lying in harbor several Gobs came aboard, 
stewed to the gills. Rather, they were dragged aboard by M. P.'s 
and turned over to the ship's guards. 

"Oh," cried a nurse. "The poor boys ! They're just like sol- 
diers, aren't they?" 



Thursday, the 20th (still in port) — Riots predicted by Pete 
Clemens if gold brickers from other divisions continue to get fresh 
with the Thirty-seventh. 



Reber, on guard, started in at once to make himself agreeable 
with the ladies. Two hours after we got aboard we saw him cud- 
dling up close to a nurse and whispering confidentially in her ear. 
She looked about as pleased as if she were taking a dose of quinine. 
How do they get that way ? 



Well, we suppose we're malicious, but we took quite a little 
joy in watching the S. O. S. birds watch us with envious eyes. Mem- 
bers of a fighting unit get their reward — they go home first ! 



179 



Brest to New York 

March 20th-March 2/th 

It is safe to say that we experienced the whole gamut of pleas- 
urable feelings, as, at 6 : 10 p. m. the twentieth or March, we crowded 
to the rails and watched the tugs puff busily about us and warp us 
gradually away from the docks and out of the harbor. The dreams 
of months were being crowned with realization. 

Our leave-taking was without regrets, without pomp or display. 
To those on the docks it was merely the sailing of another troop ship. 
The few soldiers on the docks and the group of nurses aboard an- 
other troop ship were the only ones to bid us farewell. The former 
watched us silently and made no demonstrations. The nurses flut- 
tered handkerchiefs in the breeze and watched us through field 
glasses. 

We, on our part, gazed upon the ever-widening strip of water 
with a satisfaction so complete and hearts so content that we never 
even thought of cheering. We had no regrets — no regrets for 
France. Perhaps we ran over in our minds the chain of experience 
that had been ours during our nine months with "The Expedition." 
Perhaps we conjured up visions of the Argonne and Belgium, and 
compared them with our present situation. Could we forget, either, 
those comrades of ours, beloved in every sense of the word, who 
w^ould never sail for home? Every one of those lads who fought 
beside us and died in the fight are enshrined in our memories. They 
— not the great generals, the great statesmen, or the wearers of the 
Croix de Guerre and D. S. C. — are our heroes. 

The ship began to rock as we hit the open sea, for, unlike the 
old Eeviathan, the round-bottomed Great Northern rode the swell 
— did not cut through it. Almost instantly dozens of men changed 
their expressions from happiness to distress — mal-de-mer had them 
in its clutches ! The number of seasick soldiers increased steadily as 
land faded from sight. They lay forlornly on the deck or leaned 
over the rails. Down in the hot, fetid, lower troop decks conditions 
were worse. The few men who escaped seasickness may congratu- 
late themselves. 

The weather during the entire voyage was cloudy and rainy. 
The sun shone fitfully, but we had only one morning of pleasant, 
bracing, real sunshine. On the fifth day it rained steadily and the 
sea turned bleak and gray from the reflection of the clouds. A high 
wind sprang up and the whitecaps began to appear. The broad 

180 



undulating mass of water slowly heaved itself into heavy, cumber- 
some waves until the horizon took on a ragged appearance. By 
nightfall it was blowing a gale, the rain and spray were sweeping 
the decks, and the ship careened and rocked sickeningly. Half of 
the men had recovered from their first bit of seasickness and now 
they succumbed again. 

The storm continued throughout the night and reached its 
climax the next day. No one but the ship's crew were allowed on 
the top or boat deck. The few of us who were not sick and went 
up on ''A" to get away from the hot, ill-smelling troop decks were 
driven back down by the drenching we received. 

Although we were extremely fortunate in having to spend only 
seven days on the water, we were sick and tired of it before three 
days had passed and did not appreciate our good luck. Other 
transports, among them the President Grant, which sailed twenty- 
four to seventy-two hours ahead of us, were overhauled and passed. 
Our ship showed her heels to all, as became her fine record in the 
Transport Service. 

On Thursday, the 27th, we sighted land, and skirting what we 
concluded was Long Island, steamed into New York Harbor, and 
went into quarantine at 2:15 p. m. 

Mere words cannot possibly express the wave of happiness that 
surged over us as we looked out over the harbor at the hundreds of 
ships, the busy tugs, the tall skyscrapers, the great docks and ware- 
houses, and the hazy outline of the Statue of Liberty. It was all 
typically "American"— something that spoke of home— a vision 
which we had cherished through nine long months of hard going 
on foreign soil. Its colossal proportions and atmosphere of tre- 
mendous energy could be duplicated nowhere else in the whole 
world — this was our own land, the good old U. S. A. ! 

While we were waiting for release from quarantine a tu^- 
bearing the sign, ''Mayor's Welcoming Committee of the City of 
New York," came out to meet us. She pulled alongside and the 
band aboard her began to play a popular air. The effect was elec- 
trical— the boys swarmed to the starboard side and cheer after cheer 
rent the air, completely drowning the music. A husky riverman 
mounted the tug's bridge and hurled bundles of New York news- 
papers into the seething, yelling, madly cheering crowd of soldiers. 
We cheered until we were hoarse. 

Then we noticed that the Great Northern was slowly getting 
under way. As we slipped toward the docks we cheered anvthing 
and anybody— deck hands on other ships, dock workers, the Brook- 
lyn bridge, stenographers who waved to us from warehouse offices. 

181 



The Statue of Liberty especially brought forth a frenzy of excite- 
ment and lung-bursting yelling. 

As we drew up to the long line of docks marked ''U. S. Army 
Transport Service" we calmed down, but drank in the sights of home 
with no less appreciation. At last we swung slowly into the slip 
at Dock No. 2 and the gang planks shot forth. Our voyage was 
ended. 

After a delay of over an hour, during which time the casuals, 
invalids and nurses were unloaded, we finally filed down the gang 
planks and crowded into the great shipping rooms. Immediately we 
were assailed by an army of Red Cross, Y. M. C. A., K. of C, Jew- 
ish Welfare and Salvation Army workers, who showered us with 
chocolate cream candy, almond bars, peppermints, flavored hard 
candy, gum, cigarettes and matches. The Salvation Army girls 
came forward with telegram blanks, in addition to gifts of candy 
and gum, and told us they would send messages for us free of charge, 
a service which was most opportune and highly appreciated. 

''Now," said one happy soldier, *T know damned well we're in 
America !" 

In addition to the aforementioned gifts we were given a fine 
meal of hash, hard boiled eggs, biscuits, coffee and canned peaches 
by the Red Cross. Even mess kits were provided to save us the 
trouble of using our own. Meanwhile, as we ate, we were again 
surrounded and loaded with good things. Never before had we 
been treated so royally. Every organization strained to its utmost 
to make us welcome and show us we were among "white men" once 
more. 



McGinnis wasn't the only one who was afraid to stir from his 
bunk the first few days. If vou left your bunk you tied a calf, that's 
all. 



Nurses running around in nighties and heading for a place to 
heave were a common sight to the guards. Lots of men volunteered 
for guard duty. 



The number of dudes with three-day beards reminded one of 
the Argonne. 



As usual, the Sam Brownes got the cream. They mixed freely 
with the nurses and the men were permitted to crowd up to the 
roped ofif sanctuary and water at the mouth. 



182 



There were blamed few Sam Brownes on deck during the storm, 
however, so we got the use of the deck chairs for the time being. 



We thought from the unusual quietness in our quarters that 
Freiter must have fallen overboard. Then we found out that he 
was seasick. 



It was a common sight in the mess hall to see the mess kits, food 
and men slide to the floor at a sudden lurch of the ship. It's a won- 
derful experience to slide around in the stewed meat and gravy 
you're supposed to eat ! 



Some bright guy started the chestnut about having six meals 
a day on the ship — three going down and three coming up. When 
we first heard that we kicked a slat out of our cradle. 



'Tf the Statue of Liberty ever sees me again she'll have to do 
an about-face," said Private Pearson, our talented vendor of worn- 
out jokes. 



Major Philip Roosevelt, of the Seventy-seventh Division, was 
taken seriously ill and died before the ship could reach port. 



183 



Camp Mills 

March 2 /th- April 8th 

Having finished our meal at the dock, we were marched to the 
Long Island Ferry without further delay and ferried across the river. 
When we had docked on the Island there ensued a rather aggravat- 
ing wait before we were unloaded. Then we marched a short dis- 
tance to the Long Island Terminal and boarded electric trains. We 
felt, as we were whisked out of the city towards Camp Mills, that 
it would have been paradise to continue riding swiftly through the 
darkness until we reached Ohio. We were pretty tired, but could 
have forgotten our weariness with such a prospect before us. 

When we reached Camp Mills and detrained we found — just 
as we had expected — that there was a fairly long hike before us. It 
was raining. 

Three miles of steady footwork brought us to our quarters — 
barracks at the far end of the camp. It was then about 11 o'clock, 
but before we were permitted to turn in we had to go through the 
delouser. That proved to be the last cootie battle in which we were 
engaged. We got into our beds at 3 :30 a. m. 

Camp Mills turned out to be another exasperating halt in the 
journey home. We were there twelve days, and during that time 
had little to do but eat and sleep. It was very "soft," but speed was 
what we wanted. 

The outstanding feature of our stay at this camp was the won- 
derful mess. We had been fed well at Brest, but this had former 
experiences backed off the boards. Not since we left Camp Sheridan 
had we received anything nearly as good — here, roast pork and dress- 
insT, mashed potatoes, apple turnovers, bread, jelly, and coffee with 
milk were a mere incident. We waxed fat and contented. 

The first two or three days were devoted principally to re- 
clothing the men and we soon began to improve in our appearance 
as a company. Nearly every man received a complete new outfit 
and almost everyone bought russet shoes. When we left Brest our 
Captain was complimented highly upon our snappy and clean ap- 
pearance ; the inspecting officers declared that we were the best outfit 
that had ever passed through Brest for embarkation. Now, with 
all our new uniforms, we looked and felt like candidates for Officers' 
Training. 

Twenty-four-hour passes to New York were offered to those 
who wished to visit the great metropolis, but comparatively few 
men took advantage of the opportunity. Our interest was centered 
on one place — home. 

184 



Cleveland 

April pth-April loth 

Camp Mills passed into the limbo of our memories on Tuesday, 
April 8th. We pulled out of camp at 7 :45 p. m., riding in tourist 
sleepers — no more box cars for us. At about noon the next day we 
paraded in Rochester, N. Y., where we received quite a hearty wel- 
come, and, incidentally, a bit of good experience in the lost knack 
of keeping good formation on cobblestones and street car trucks. 

After we left Rochester our train just "high-balled" and our 
hearts were beating nearly as fast as the wheels upon the rails. What 
a feeling it was when we entered Ohio! 

At 6 o'clock in the evening we arrived in Cleveland, passing 
the 105th street station and beautiful Gordon Park, and then rattling 
through the lake front factory district — dirty and squalid, but good 
to look at, because for a great many of us it was home. We made 
one or two short halts before we finally came to rest in the yards 
at the foot of West 3d Street. 

There we found a great welcoming crowd of people awaiting 
us — they had been waiting there for hours, and now, releasing their 
pent-up excitement, they surged about the cars in frantic search for 
their boys. 

For those of us who did not live in Cleveland these greetings 
for more fortunate comrades could not help causing a lonesome feel- 
ing — however, ours would come later and be just as sweet to us. 

Confusion reigned supreme for over half an hour, but finally 
we succeeded in forming a column and started for our regiment's 
old home. Central Armory. Men, women and children hung to the 
skirts of the column or marched in the ranks. Many of the boys 
fell out of the ranks and "beat it" with their loved ones. Tom 
Sawyer would have called it a "gorgeous" home-coming. 

It would be futile to attempt an account of what the Cleveland 
boys did in their own homes or to narrate the various ways in which 
the rest of us spent the night. Let us pass on to the following day. 

We gathered at the Armory about 9 o'clock in the morning, and 
already there was a large crowd of people on the spot. The parade 
was scheduled for 10:30 a. m., and, half an hour beforehand, we 
formed up in column of platoons on Lakeside Avenue. The skies 
threatened rain, but the crowds were not frightened at the prospect 
and grew steadily larger. 

Promptly at 10:30 we started around the comer of West 3d, 
and the parade was soon in full swing. A soldier does not like 

185 



parades as a rule, but what a grand and glorious feeling it was to 
march between those long banks of cheering home folks ! 

We have no very distinct or coherent memory of that parade — 
the salient facts, as we recall them, were surging mobs along the 
curbs, with a conglomeration of cheering, shouted greetings, sharp 
explosions, and other rackets, with an undercurrent of band music 
from the head of the column. It was like a half dozen old-time 
Fourths concentrated in one. We passed the Square, up Euclid 
Avenue to 22d Street, back down Prospect to Ninth, and down 
Superior and 6th to the Armory. 

Then followed the best part of the whole affair, the chicken din- 
ner served by Cleveland mothers. Long, white-clothed tables had 
been set upon the Armory floor, all set and laid ready for us. A 
band played deafening blasts of music from the balcony, and, as we 
filed to our places at the tables the crowds in the galleries cheered 
and applauded. The mothers brought on the chicken. Ain't it 
great to be a hero ! 

The scheduled festivities now being over, we were dismissed 
until 7 p. m., at which time we were supposed to leave for Zanes- 
ville. It was after 9 p. m. when we did start, and the railroad yards 
were teeming with people bidding their boys goodby. This time, 
unlike our departure in the fall of 1917, their faces were cheerful 
and happy. We were coming back within a few days, and coming 
back for good. 



186 



Zanesville 

April nth 

We pulled into Zanesville some time during the wee hours of 
the morning, but were not astir and up on the streets of the town 
until 7 or 8 o'clock. Most of us made for the barber shops of the 
town "tout-suite." We couldn't think of parading before all those 
beautiful mademoiselles without perking up and having our shoes 
shined. When we formed up at 10:30 we looked like a bunch of 
young plutocrats out for a lark. 

The parade went through without a hitch, and as all parades 
are alike, we won't bother with unnecessary description. Besides, 
with a soldier, the "eats" are what count, and when we filed into the 
market house we surely got all we wanted. The place was a para- 
dise of pie, ice cream, candy, cigarettes and coffee ; we even got but- 
termilk. 

Around every window and door a mob of people gathered, 
squabbling for a place to watch us eat. They seemed to enjoy the 
feast as much as we did. The small boys of the town reaped a won- 
derful harvest of good things from soldiers who were "full up." 
We had a glorious time! 

Corporal Vandivort was the only member of our company whose 
home was in Zanesville, but he did his best; dragged half a dozen 
of his old comrades out to his home. We guess he didn't have to 
"drag" them, at that. Our hats are off to Vandy and his town ! 



187 



Marietta 

April 1 2th 

We left Zanesville at 10 p. m. with a cheering crowd to bid 
us farewell. When we opened our eyes next morning we were in 
Marietta. Contrary to our expectations, this business of traveling 
around our good old home State was more of a lark than a disagree- 
able job; we wished we could continue the tour until everything was 
''set" for our discharge. 

The parade started at the usual hour, 10:30 a. m., and follow- 
ing it, we went to the Ohio National Guard Armory for our ''eats." 
We were then dismissed until lip. m. 

We found Marietta to be a wonderfully beautiful little town, 
and, like those of Zanesville, the people were extremely hospitable, 
and made every effort to give us a good time. There were dances 
in the Armory both in the afternoon and evening, and automobile 
owners took hundreds of soldiers for rides about the town and sur- 
rounding country. 



188 



Camp Sherman 

April I ph- April 2 2d 

The story of the travels and adventures of the Machine Gun 
Company of Ohio's old Fighting Fifth, known in the great war as 
the 145th Infantry, now draws to an end. An account of our weary 
last nine days in the army, at Camp Sherman, would be a colorless 
story, indeed ; we will not tell it. Rather, let us sum it up by saying 
that we turned in our equipment which we were not to take home, 
packed the rest in new suitcases, took our last physical examination, 
and on Tuesday, April 22d, at 8 :30 a. m., were discharged from the 
service. 

We had waited so long for this great event that a few words 
concerning it would not come amiss. When day broke that wonder- 
ful morning we were already astir, cleaning the barracks, packing 
up our things, and getting blankets and mess kits ready to turn in. 
Then we had breakfast, and thanked heaven it was our last in the 
army. Blankets, mess kits and suitcases in our hands, we started 
for the Q. Al. C. warehouses. We left our suitcases and traveling 
bags behind at a point half way to our destination, which was at 
the farthest end of camp. Having rid ourselves of the blankets and 
mess kits, we retraced our steps and soon were filing into a very 
ordinary barracks, which looked like a wonder palace to us, for our 
money and the ''papers." 

The face of each man as he clutched his emancipation proclama- 
tion and hustled out of that barracks expanded in a broad grin. 
''Fineesh armee!" "Wow!" — we could have kissed our worst 
enemies ! 

Over on the railroad track lay a waiting special train. We 
already had our tickets, purchased at reduced rates. There was only 
one thing left to do now — shake hands with our old pals. 

Folks, take it from us, that was the hardest thing in the world* 
to do — bid our comrades goodby. We knew that we'd never see the 
majority of them again, and memories of hardships and good times 
together came flooding back to make the breaking up of our com- 
pany a sad business. We had one consolation; this narrative, the 
true history of our trials and our days of fun in the service of Uncle 
Sam will be a constant source of joy for each and everv^ one of us ; 
it alone can take the place of buddies from whom we are separated, 
in all probability, for ever. 

FINIS 



189 




These are our comrades who will never return ; the men who 
toiled through weary months of training with us, sailed to France 
with us, hiked beside us, messed with us, played with us, slept with 
us, fought with us, and died beside us. Their bodies are in France 
and Belgium, but their souls are with God. 

We love them as only soldiers can love comrades who were 
with them through thick and thin, and their memory is enshrined in 
our hearts. These are our buddies, our hero dead : 

Albert Smith, 
Louis Spiry, 
Charles Griswold, 
Paul Gusler, 
McKinley King, 
Norman MacLean, 
John Buch 
Andrew Brahler, 
Herbert Stolte, 
Ernest Thrun, 
George Call, 
Arthur Carney, 
Lloyd Wheeler. 



190 



CASUALTY LIST 



Wounded in Action 

John A. Tilden 1st Lieutenant Argonne 

Harry S. Merriman 1st Lieutenant Belgium 

Charles O. Albaugh Corporal Belgium 

Arthur J. Avery Private Belgium 

Llewellyn Barbour Private Argonne 

George F. Bartow Private Argonne 

David Dawson Private Belgium 

Walter S. Dunn Private Argonne 

Victor Earl Private Argonne 

Carlon A. Hine Private Argonne 

Arthur D. Lego Private Argonne 

Walter E. Lewis Private Belgium 

Marion McGinnis Private Argonne 

William A. Morgan Private Argonne 

Homer F. Price Private Belgium 

Benj amin J. Shiftman Corporal Argonne 

Leonidas G. Smith Private Argonne 

Olin B. Smith Private Argonne 

John B. Speary Bugler Argonne 

Elmo W. Stults Private Belgium 

Ben Swihart Private Belgium 

Walter L. White Private Belgium 

Melvin Wheeler Private Belgium 

Lester B. Williams Private Belgium 

James Wilson Private Argonne 

William Zack Private Argonne 

Gennar Carelli Private Belgium 

Frank Schanes Private Belgium 

Gassed Severely 

George Sierer Corporal Belgium 



Gassed Slightly 

John H. Stimmel Sergeant Argonne and 

Belgium 

Charles Frank Private Argonne 

Wesley J. Bigler Private Argonne 

Carl Karasek Private Argonne 

Harold Raines Corporal Argonne 

191 



Killed in Action 

Charles Griswold Private Argonne 

Paul P. Gusler Sergeant Belgium 



McKinley King Private 

Norman MacLean Private 

John J. Buch Private 

Andrew J. Brahler Private 

Herbert Stolte Private 

Ernest Thrun Private 



-Argonne 
.Argonne 
-Argonne 
-Argonne 
-Argonne 
-Argonne 



Died of Wounds 



George H. Call Private 

Arthur E, Carney Private 

Lloyd A. Wheeler Private 



Argonne 
.Argonne 
Argonne 



Died of Disease 

Albert Smith Private Camp Sheridan 

Louis Spiry Private Camp Sheridan 



192 



ROSTER 

Machine Gun Company, 145th Infantry 

37th Division 

United States Army 



Officers 

Capt. Charles L. Wedow 10207 Adams Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

1st Lieut. Harry S. Merriman Buffalo, N. Y. 

1st Lieut. John A. Tilden Cleveland, Ohio 

1st Lieut. Elmer E. Shultz 93 Lake St j\kron, Ohio 

2d Lieut Roger A. Smith Cleveland, Ohio 

2d Lieut. James L. Fri 



Non-Commissioned Officers 

1st Sergt. Walter C. Clough ^Cleveland, Ohio 

Mess Sergt Norman S. Byram..Muir's Landing ^St. Clair Flats, Mich. 

Supply Sergt. Howard H. Frye..R. F. D. No. 1 ^Madison, Ohio 

Stable Sergt. Cesco R. Dillon ^Proctorville, Ohio 



Sergeants 

Harry D. Cater 9702 Hough Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

William R. Hull 1652 E. 71st St Cleveland, Ohio 

Elmer R. Krueger 13305 Darley Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Charles W. Luchte 3427 Harvey Ave Cincinnati, Ohio 

Edward H. Richner Twinsburg, Ohio 

Bernard J. Roney Buckland, Ohio 

George P. Ruff 2117 Seymour Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Paul S. Shutt R. F. D. No. 2, Findlay Rd...Lima, Ohio 

John H. Stimmel 601 Campbell Ave Detroit, Mich. 

Ernest Chapman E. 95th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Paul P. Gusler 



193 



Corporals 

Clem O. Bailey 351 S. Jackson St Lima, Ohio 

Fay S. Brown R. F. D. No. 2 Mendon, Ohio 

Steven C. Byram Muir's Landing St. Clair Flats, Mich. 

Ernest C. demons New London, Ohio 

Milford Conley 312 7th St Ashland, Ky. 

Henry Felkey Kalida, Ohio 

Harry Harmon Graysville, Ohio 

Joseph M. Herman 14933 Cardinal Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

John Miller R. F. D. No. 1 Uniopolis, Ohio 

Peter L. Mumy Route No. 4 Paulding, Ohio 

Wilham D. Perkinson 1302 Center St Portsmouth, Ohio 

Victor A. Norris 2203 E. 105th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Samuel A. Salzman 2252 E. 73d St Cleveland, Ohio 

George Sierer 1116 S. Atlantic St Lima, Ohio 

Leo A. Watters Care J. A. Watters Monroeville, Ohio 

Samuel D. Vandivort 541 Luck Ave Zanesville, Ohio 

Charles O. Albaugh 

Benjamin J. Shiffman Cleveland, Ohio 

Cooks 

Arthur W. Luther 3921 E. 93d St Cleveland, Ohio 

Henry O. Mooren 9403 Meech Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Henry E. Welker Berrysburg, Pa. 



Buglers 

John B. Speary R. F. D. No. 2 Portsmouth, Ohio 

Shirley Ruel 125 Front St Portsmouth, Ohio 



Horseshoer 

Paul Slatinsky 2562 W. 10th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Saddler 

Bane Sylvia 3718 Rhodes Ave Portsmouth, Ohio 

Mechanics 

Frank B. Dainus 1931 Lakeside Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Ray C. Engleman Paulding, Ohio 

Willard G. Seymore 223 Crescent Ave Covington, Ky. 



194 



Privates— 1st Class 

Calvin E. Bailey Xorth Girard. Pa. 

Donald L. Baxter 414 W. Spring St Lima, Ohio 

Perry E. Beardsley Hudson, Ohio 

Edward Berlett Box 293 Conneaut. Ohio 

William E. Blakeman Route No. 3, Box 49 Lucasville. Ohio 

Andrew J. Brahler 

Thomas W. Bruce 444 S. Main St Amherst. Ohio 

Paul W. Cater 9702 Hough Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Arthur E. Carney 

John J. Chabala 11335 Langley Ave Chicago, 111. 

Spencer A. Coleman 2856 Woodbury Rd Cleveland, Ohio 

Halbert M. Davis Kinsman, Ohio 

Walter Dunn -]-] Gilmore St Waycross, Ga. 

Arthur S. Dunstan 3434 Glenwood Ave Toledo. Ohio 

Richard L. Evans McComb, Ohio 

Hamer C. Farrell 524 Cedar St -Syracuse, N. Y. 

Frank Farrington 1115 Fulton Ave ^\kron, Ohio 

Wilbur Felkey Kalida, Ohio 

Charles Frank \2<^y. E. Sanduskv St Findlav, Ohio 

William Friedell 1094 E. 68th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Glenn W. Gayman Donora. Pa. 

John M. Gibson 

Audis Gray 9403 Aleech Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Clarence V. Homer 103 Main St Greenville. Pa. 

Andrew F. Irwin York Floral Co York. Xeb. 

Ray N. Johnson 2228 E. 97th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Arthur W. Jolly 46 N. 13th St Kenmore, Ohio 

Carl J. Karasek 455 E. 143d St Cleveland, Ohio 

Lee O. Kurfis ,3414 Daisy Ave Cleveland. Ohio 

Walter E. Lewis 

Earl N. Lowry Berhn Heights, O. 

Norman AlacLean 

Marion McGinnis 118 Harrison Ave Xima, Ohio 

Edwin F. ]Munson 

David A. O'Bannon Garden City, Mo. 

William D. Preston 322 Haymond St Fairmount. W. Va 

Homer F. Price Payne. Ohio 

Lynne E. Rood 

Frank D. Roush 113 10th St Toledo. Ohio 

Lewis Siedler .961 E. 77th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Fred J. Sparks 1205 Colton Ave Toledo. Ohio 

Herbert Stolte Cleveland, Ohio 

George H. Tepper 5417 McBride Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Coalter K. Turner Payne. Ohio 

Harley Van Scoit Arlington, Ohio 

Clare Welch Allegany, N. Y. 

Melvin Wheeler 

Walter L. White Box 94 Oakvale. W. Va. 

James Wilson iZZl E. 125th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Herman F. Zellner 1099 E. 143d St Cleveland. Ohio 

195 



Privates 

Frank Adamek 1122 S. Desplaines St Chicago, 111. 

William L. Anderson R. F. D. No. 5 Windon, Minn. 

William Angell 1566 W. 117th St Lakewood, Ohio 

Delta L. Artis 950 3d St Portsmouth, Ohio 

Arthur Avery Payne, Ohio 

George F. Bartow 

Henry G. Bates Ironton, Ohio 

Llewellyn Barbour 

Frank R. Bell 212 E. Hardin St Findlay, Ohio 

Charles J. Braun 2151 Clyborne Ave Chicago, 111. 

John J. Bernwinkler 1425 Woodall St Baltimore, Md. 

Fern D. Butler Andover, Ohio 

Wesley J. Bigler R. F. D. No. 1, Box 55.-.Clarington, Ohio 

George H. Call 

Axel Carlson 1204 15th St Rockford, 111. 

Gennar Carrelli 2101 Mead St Racine, Wis. 

Lester Carroll Box 33 Malinta, Ohio 

Floyd J. Chandler 716 Broadway Place Toledo, Ohio 

Jesse H. Chisnell R. F. D. No. 35 Barberton, Ohio 

Raymond L. Covert Ashtabula, Ohio 

Harry L. Crawmer Toboso, Ohio 

John Davis R. F. D. No. 5 Payne, Ohio 

David Dawson 

Adam Decker Kalida, Ohio 

John F. Donahue 615 E. 2d St Lima, Ohio 

August Duerlewanger 512 Reservoir Ave Milwaukee, Wis. 

Walter J. Durst Route No. 5 Millsville, Wis. 

Victor Earl R. F. D. No. 1 Waynesfield, Ohio 

Roy Earl R. F. D. No. 1 Waynesfield, Ohio 

William Eddy 269 E. 128th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Clinton Felkey Kalida, Ohio 

Murrel E. Fowler 116H N. Main St Findlay, Ohio 

Edward H. Freiter 3123 E. 98th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Ethan R. Fry R. F. D. No. 1 Paulding, Ohio 

Clayborn G. Greenleaf West Richfield, Ohio 

Charles Griswold 

Russell G. Hall 71 W. Beatty Ave Cambridge, Ohio 

Wilbur Hasting 820 S. Metcalf St Lima, Ohio 

Carlon A. Hine 

Fay B. Hooker R. F. D. No. 3 Latty, Ohio 

Elif Jacobson R. F. D. No. 2 Rio, Wis. 

John Kanyuh 532 2d St .Fairport, Ohio. 

McKinley King 

Lewis Krouse R. F. D. No. 2 Fort Jennings, Ohio 

Lars M. Larson Beldenville, Wis. 

Mike Lasher ..908 W. 26th St Erie, Pa. 

196 



Privates— Continued 

Arthur D. Lego 947 W. Hopkins Ave Barberton, Ohio 

Herbert Lego 947 W. Hopkins Ave Barberton, Ohio 

Charles W. Lessiter 338 N. 2d St Barberton, Ohio 

Joseph J. Luce 524 E. Pearl St Cincinnati, Ohio 

Mathew Manning Mulberry, Kas. 

Joseph Meixner 912 35th St Milwaukee, Wis. 

Artie C. Miller Grand River, Iowa 

Gust Miller Route No. 2 East Orwell, Ohio 

Orville Mills 714 S. Metcalf St Xima, Ohio 

William A. Morgan 1285 167th St Cleveland, Ohio 

John Meuller Darlington, Wis. 

Carl Munson 2428 E. 22d St Minneapolis, Minn. 

William Nuendorf 175 W. Main St Juneau, Wis. 

Percy Olson Hammond, Wis. 

Lester Outcelt Route No. 1 St. Croix Falls, Wis. 

Michael B. Patras 3127 W. 11th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Raymond A, Pearson Lima, Ohio 

Tony Phillips 421 23d St Milwaukee, Wis. 

John Pletcher 609 S. Woodlawn Ave Lima, Ohio 

Victor Puhl R. F. D. No. 2 Fall Creek, Wis. 

Harold Raines 656 Harrison Ave. iima, Ohio 

Albert R. Raufman Route No. 1, Box 18 Nekoosa, Wis. 

Clyde W. Reber 914 Fruit Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Volney Rice Aragon Mill Rock Hill, S. C. 

Joseph F. Rock 620 Adams Ave Eveleth, Minn. 

Oscar Rotenberg 1000 3d Ave Rock Island, 111. 

Frank Schanes Route No. 1 New Rome, Wis. 

Robert H. Schoenrock 425 Western Ave Blue Island, 111. 

Albert Schwahn Care A. F. Schwan & SocEauclaire, Wis. 

John G. Schneck 

Harry Seaman 5107 Woodland Ave Cleveland, Ohio 

Louis Shaps 726 Rockaway Ave Brooklyn, N. Y. 

August Siem 842 Center St Stevens Point, Wis. 

Ralph Smith 521 Grand Ave Findlay, Ohio 

George E. Southworth Route No. 1, Box 28 Piketon, Ohio 

Leonidas G. Smith Willowton, W. Va. 

Olin B. Smith 

Joseph H. Specs 616 Center St Lima, Ohio 

Paul Stellato 772 Dekoven St Chicago, 111. 

Crawford Stewart 965 Mobile Place East Cleveland, Ohio 

Elmo W. Stults Wellington, Texas 

Ben Swihart 433 E. 114th St Cleveland, Ohio 

Ernest Thrun - 

Joe Tischler 1083 Marion St -St. Paul, Minn. 

Adolph Traskewich 3127 S. Lowe St Chicago, 111. 

Bayden Vujich 1541 E. 34th St Cleveland, Ohio 

197 



Privates — Continued 

Wynne A. Walters R. F. D. No. 3 Sandyville, W. Va. 

Ralph Walters Care J. A. Watters Monroeville, Ohio 

Lloyd A. Wheeler 

Lester B. Williams R. F. D. No. 3 Van Wert, Ohio 

Benjamin Wilson 44 Stone Block Warren, Ohio 

Ralph Wygant Mora, Minn. 

William Zack 2315 Hamilton Ave Cleveland, Ohio 



198 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




005 81 1 523 A- 



